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chaos-in-deepspace · 5 months ago

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LADS Zayne: Dirty Shave | 18+

This fic took me a solid week and a half to write. It was so much fun though. This is dedicated to my little meow meow because I'm waiting patiently for him to finish writing an Omega Zayne fic. Based off Hidden Motive however I started writing this before the card released so really it's just MC shaving his face and then fucking him. It doesn't follow the plot of the card so you can read it without needing to see the original.

For an easier time reading this, I put it on AO3 as well! I prefer reading long fics on there in case tumblr refreshes while I'm trying to finish.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Overstimulation, Showers, Unsafe Sex, Creampie, Riding, Facial Shaving, Caught having sex on the phone, Teasing, Jealous Reader, AFAB Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, Penis in Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Top Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: You and Zayne were just relaxing in the shower together when you felt the stubble on his face. An innocent request to shave his face results in you sitting on his lap, teasing him until he's desperate and needy. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Word Count: 15k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Dirty Shave

The music seemed to gently caress your ears as you swayed to the beat, enjoying the acoustics that the shower so willingly provided. It bounced wonderfully off the walls of the shower at the resort you had found yourself in with your beloved Zayne.

The man whom you held in such high regard was currently rinsing out shampoo from his hair, his back turned to you as you hummed the melody and watched. The water dripped off those raven locks and you couldn’t help yourself as you leaned up against his back, relaxing into him. Zayne stopped for a moment, turning his head to look down at you.

“Having fun?” His voice echoed out in the warm shower and you let out another content hum as you looked up at him. You had no idea how, but under the lights in the bathroom he looked even more breathtaking than usual.

“Yup, just enjoying this. Think we can renovate the shower at your place to be this big?” you asked and looked up. The shower had a wonderful waterfall feature, meaning both of you were under the spray of the showerhead and weren’t left in the cold. It was one of the few reasons you two didn’t often shower together in the mornings. You two had certainly tried, but Zayne always felt guilty when it was his turn under the sprayer and you were left almost shivering. You honestly had never minded since it was the perfect time to admire his form outside of sexual contexts.

“I can certainly look into it once we’re back,” he said, turning around so he was facing you properly. You shouldn’t have been surprised with how easily he accepted that, he had always been one to go with your whims. If you asked him for something he would make it happen within a few weeks normally. Renovating an entire room in his house? Of course he’d readily agree if it meant he could hold you in his arms like this. That and you could see he was clearly enjoying the feature judging by how this was the third time you’d showered together since you guys had come to this town for his medical convention.

“Come here,” his hand reached for your hip, pulling you closer. You felt your heart speed up for a second at the proximity before your eyes followed his hands. After you were closer he trailed his hands upwards with a gentle glide on your body that had a small shiver wrack down your spine. He reached over and got some shampoo and put a generous dollop into his hands. He then was running those large hands in your hair, scrubbing away anything that might’ve been in there.

His hands worked deftly as he massaged your scalp, applying the right pressure right where you needed it. You were absolutely melting into his grasp, closing your eyes and just letting him do whatever he wanted. His hands always felt amazing and now was certainly no exception to the rule. You swore if he kept this up then you’d find yourself falling asleep standing in the shower. Zayne smiled to himself as he saw how your head leaned into his touch out of habit; you always leaned into his touch like a small kitten the moment you had become more comfortable around him.

He then went and dipped your head back, letting the suds of the soap run down into the drain as he worked his hands a little more, tangled in your locks and then the base of your scalp. He was working you thoroughly and you let out a small, happy moan at the attention. Your hands reached up to gently hold onto his forearms, fingers gently tracing over a few of the scars.

You could hear him chuckling as he then leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You finally opened your eyes, staring into his hazel ones that always seemed to drink you in. The way he looked at you sometimes made your heart stop, the absolute love and affection was more than you could ever hope to find in a partner. You were certain that the look you gave him was similar since you were utterly in love with the man and everything he did.

No words were spoken as he worked the conditioner through your hair in a similar way, instead you just placed your hands on his chest and leaned closer to him. As he rinsed you off for a second time he tilted your chin up for a kick, chaste kiss. You giggled against his lips, leaning forward to capture his mouth again and savoring the feeling of him. He took good care of himself thankfully, and his body was the physical embodiment of that. You couldn’t help but drag your fingers over his chest, feeling how the muscles tensed slightly from the sudden contact. Even his lips were soft and plush against your own as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss for just a moment longer.

“Something I can do for you?” You murmured against his lips as he placed his hands on your hips. You felt him swaying you to the beat of the music that still echoed in the shower. The moment was sweet and serene and you briefly wondered when you could have this every day. Your hands reached up to wrap around his shoulders as you allowed him to move you however he wished.

His forehead pressed against your own and he closed his eyes, “Just stay here with me, it’s all I need,” you felt yourself blushing at his words, but you wouldn’t deny him. Just as he could hardly say no to you, you were also whipped. He said the word and you’d come crawling to him and doing whatever it was he asked of you.

“I think I can handle that,” you smiled, your eyes also closing. For just a moment it was the two of you in your own little world, swaying to music with the gentle fall of water surrounding you. You smiled at the scene you two were surly creating, wondering which book you read that had this exact moment. The man you called your boyfriend, hopefully one day husband, was one of the most romantic men you had ever met.

Most people would never assume that the Dr. Li could be the romantic type, but moments like these always proved the world wrong. The way he held you like you would slip from his fingers if he so much as let up his grip made you feel so damn secure.

You reached up to cup his cheek, intent on bringing him down for another sweet kiss before you two left the shower. Then you felt it. The slight prickly feeling of stubble on Zayne’s face. The man was meticulous about shaving his face, and thankfully it didn’t grow very fast. He’d normally shave every other night to clean up anything that had attempted to grow, and it appeared that tonight was one such night.

The thought occurred to you in just a second as you opened your eyes. You watched as Zayne was leaning into your touch and it reminded you of a sweet and cuddly cat. You then cleared your throat and got his attention, those soft eyes peering down at you.

“Zayne…you have stubble,” you started and Zayne raised an eyebrow in question. He took the hand that was cupping his face and turned his head, kissing the palm of your hand as he spoke.

“I am a man,” he reminded you, “It’s only normal that I have stubble at the end of the day,” he pressed another kiss to your palm before letting your hand drop. You placed it on his chest and looked up at him. Despite how it had grown, it was barely noticeable unless you looked closely. You guessed in a sense Zayne was lucky in that regard since he seemed to dislike the hair anyway.

“Can I shave your face tonight?” you asked, wanting to reach up and touch his face again. Your fingers twitched against his chest as you looked up at him curiously.

Zayne’s eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to think over the idea. Probably debating if it would be a good idea or not. He cleared his throat, “I don’t think that’s necessary, I’m capable of doing it myself,” he said and you frowned at his response.

“Just because you can do it yourself doesn’t mean you have to,” You reminded him, “I can wash my own hair, but it’s way more enjoyable when you do it,” besides you really wanted to try it not, being able to move his face around without any complaints from him seemed intriguing.

Zayne nodded, “That’s true, but the situation is a bit…different,” he began and you clearly weren’t entertained by his excuses, “Razors are sharp and dangerous. If you don’t know how to use it correctly it can lead to cuts which can later evolve into possible infection,” it was almost like he forgot you were a hunter and knew all the dangers of untreated cuts, as well as how sharp objects could actually harm someone if you weren’t careful.

“I know how to use a razor, Zayne,” you huffed, “I’ve shaved my legs before, you know,” you reasoned with him, now batting your eyelashes.

“Using a safety razor and using a straight razor are very different,” he attempted once more to reason with you, but alas it was going nowhere. You had an idea in your mind and you wanted to follow through with it. You knew it would only be a matter of time before he gave in…besides you weren’t totally clueless on how to use a straight razor.

You had seen it lying around in his bathroom, watched him shave his face, and once upon a time was really bored and decided to shave a single arm with it to see how it was done. You hadn’t even cut yourself when you did it. It wasn’t even that hard to use since the blade was so sharp; you were confident you could shave his face without nicking him.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said and you could see it, you could physically see his resolve melting under your gaze. You decided to finish him by sticking out your lip into a small pout and that was really all it took. He sighed, shaking his head and looking down at you.

“Alright, fine…” he began, “but only the sides and chin. I’ll handle the detail work,” he said and honestly that was fine by you. The thought of shaving his upper lip was perhaps out of your comfort zone. If you cut his perfect lips you’d probably cry for a week. Not to mention if you saw him flinching whenever you kissed him you might as well dig your own grave and toss yourself in.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling, “Thank you, babe,” you coo as you swayed a little with him. He sighed, shaking his head as he reached behind him to turn off the shower. The stream of water died down as soon as he did so and the steam from how hot you had kept the water managed to keep you warm for the time being.

“I’m happy you seem so excited, but first we need to get out of the shower,” he reminded you with a gentle smile directed at you. He began walking you backwards and out of the shower, one hand never leaving your hip as you went along with him. It was clear you had no intention of leaving his embrace anytime soon; his arms were your safe space at the end of the day.

In response to your clinginess you felt Zayne’s hands cupping under your thighs. Your grip around him tightened as he lifted you with ease, walking you over to the towels and grabbing a few of the fluffy white ones the resort had. He worked one of them around your body then sat you down on the counter. You watched with interest as he then grabbed one and loosely wrapped it around his own waist, his eyes glancing up at your obvious staring.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked as he grabbed another white towel from nearby and brought it over to you. You were about to say a smartass comment when the towel was thrown over your face. You let out a small, unamused noise as he worked the towel over your hair, soaking up a bulk of the water from your shower.

When he moved the towel off to reveal your face he leaned in, cupping your cheek and dragging you in for a proper kiss. Despite how much you wanted to get back at him you found yourself melting against him, closing your eyes and enjoying how he led the kiss.

His hands weaved through your hair, his tongue gently prodding at your mouth and you easily opened up, allowing his tongue to press against your own before it began exploring. You moaned at the taste of him, the subtle taste of chocolate macaroons lingered on him from your dessert after dinner and it made him only more decadent than normal. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you let out a gentle moan into his mouth. You didn’t know when he got so good at kissing you; you still recalled your first kiss and how uncertain he had been. Now he dove in and took your breath away every single time, lips pressing against your own perfectly with that tongue that knew exactly how to get you worked up.

You were disappointed when he finally let off, leaning back with his thumb swiping your lower lip to clean off the small trail of saliva. Your heart was thrumming in your chest as you frowned for a moment, “Why’d you stop?” you didn’t mean for it to come out almost whiny, but it did get a smirk out of Zayne. You were about five seconds from grabbing the back of his head and dragging him back down to continue making out with you when he decided to speak up.

“Shaving should be done right after a shower,” he stated simply, “Unless you wanted to skip that over,” the way he leaned against you, pressing himself against your thigh had you swallowing the lump in your throat. You could feel his cock pressed against you, only slightly hard which was unsurprising judging by how he always seemed to pop a boner the moment tongue was involved. So that was his angle, trying to distract you so you’d drop your quest in shaving his face.

Too bad you weren’t a complete dumbass.

Instead of replying you just grabbed one of the many towels he brought over and tossed one around his neck and used it to pull him down. He let out a small surprised gasp as he quickly grabbed the edge of the counter on either side of your thighs. You took the towel and put it over his head and began drying his hair with a hum.

“You’re so right, Dr. Li, we should probably hurry up here so we can make sure your face is nice and smooth for your conferences tomorrow morning,” you said and watched the small glimmer of mischief in his eyes dim a little bit as he realized his plan was failing horribly. You held back the smirk that threatened to give away that you had caught him red handed.

You two work together toweling off and making yourself relatively dry. You chuckle as Zayne once again picks you up and places you down on the ground. It felt like ice with how cold the tile was on your bare feet and you noticed how amused Zayne was at your small flinch. You shot a small frown his way to let him know how unamused you were at this. If he had just kept holding you then you’d be content, but apparently that wasn’t an option at this time.

He grabbed the silk robes the resort provided and handed you the smaller size, helping you wrap it around your body and tie the knot in the front. You were very entertained with how he seemed to secure yours so well, covering everything you had as though he had never seen you naked in his life. You then watched as he put his own on and noticed how it was so loose around him. The chest was wide open on it, it barely covered his nipples. He was trying to be enticing whether he knew it or not.

He rummaged around the bathroom and grabbed a few things you’d need for shaving his face, “That’s not as much as I was expecting,” you comment as you see the shaving cream, razor, a bowl of water, and aftershave in his hands. Not to mention two small hand towels that he had draped over his forearm.

“I normally need less than this, however I assume it would be more comfortable for you to shave my face on the couch rather than balancing on the counter,” he said, his tone was calm and neutral, but you could tell he was teasing you about your height. It wasn’t your fault that the man decided to be born overly tall and broad. Besides, at least with your height you had the perfect vantage point to squishing your head in his chest anytime you hugged him.

“Well then come on, mister,” you said and grabbed some of the things from his hands, but noticed how he kept the straight razor. You two made your way to the large living space and you looked around. The couch had a perfect side table where you could set down all your supplies and still be able to reach them whenever you needed to.

“How’d you like to do this?” Zayne had leaned down so his breath ghosted right over your ear. An involuntary shiver went down your spine as your head whipped back at him. Zayne had his normal lack of expression on his face and if you didn’t know him so well you’d think he was innocent. Still you had learned to look in his eyes since they always told exactly what he was thinking. He definitely knew what he was doing, from kissing you in the bathroom to how he wore his robe, and even now. He was seducing you right now and it was working, but probably not in the way he was hoping.

“Sit on the couch, Dr. Li,” you instructed him, motioning with your head where you wanted him to sit. Zayne did as instructed, adjusting himself on the couch as he looked up at you. His eyes were now sharp as he took in your every movement and it was almost nerve wracking as you set the supplies down on the table next to him. Still you were schooling your expression and pretending you hadn’t noticed what he was doing, acting as though you weren’t currently turned on from his antics. As long as you kept your cool he would assume his hints didn’t work and it would be easier to tease him later on.

“It won’t be good for your back if you bend down for this,” Zayne commented as he realized the current angle you were at. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you had to force it down, wanting to seem like you held all the authority at the moment.

“And how do you suggest I do this then?” you begin, your voice almost a purr, “If I’m not mistaken I’m the one in charge here, aren’t I?” you could see the shift in his demeanor at that exact moment. How his posture seemed to straighten up a little and he looked at you with a small challenge in his eyes. He was normally submissive for you, a perfect boy, but that was only after all the teasing was over. You had to work to get him into that state, and honestly you adored every second of it.

“What are you then?” he asked, “The Chief Surgeon?” oh so that’s how he wanted to play it for the evening? If so, you’d happily indulge him as you tilted your head and smirked. You did notice how he deliberately didn’t give you a solution though, but in the back of your mind you had a feeling you knew what he wanted to suggest.

“That’s correct, and tonight you’re my dear patient,” you went to cup his chin and forced his head up to look at you, “And the operation will begin very shortly. I’ll need to begin preparations and I would very much like it if my patient was compliant during this part.” you watched how he squirmed at your words.

It was teasing, sure, but you knew deep down he loved this way more than he was willing to admit. He thought he had been coy about it in the past, but it was clear as day he had a thing for medical roleplay. What amused you was the fact that he really preferred it when you were the one in charge and he was just a bystander. It was honestly cute how willingly he gave away his power and let you do whatever you wanted to him.

“Of course, I’d be an idiot to not follow a Dr’s orders,” oh that was a jab and you knew it. Especially with how your smirk fell into a frown at the same time Zayne’s own lips twitched in a knowing look. You huffed as you grabbed hold of the shaving cream and got some on your hands then wet them in the bowl of water he had grabbed. As you worked it into a lather in your own hands you turned to your ‘patient’. You were now standing between his legs as you peered down at the man.

“Tilt your head back a little bit,” you said, watching as he did just as you asked without any smart remarks. Your hands went to cup his cheeks, working the lather into his skin. Your hands massaging his cheeks and just enjoying the fact that you got to touch him all over his face for once without him complaining.

Your thumb swiped right underneath his bottom lip as you looked between his mouth to his eyes. He seemed to almost be waiting for you to give in and kiss him, but you held back. There was too much shaving cream at the moment and you were fairly certain it would taste horrible. Instead you opted to grab hold of the towel next to you and began wiping your hands off.

Once they were clean you grabbed hold of the straight razor. You could feel Zayne tense from your stance between his legs; it was adorable how he both trusted you to do this, but was also terrified of you having such a sharp object close to his neck. You did see what he was talking about earlier with the angle not being the best, and you decided to quickly fix the situation at hand.

You used your knees to make Zayne put his legs together and then threw one of your own over his waist. You adjusted yourself on his lap, making sure to be more centered on his thighs rather than his crotch. You didn’t want to reward his bad behavior of teasing you by sitting directly on it, and from this angle you’d be able to see the effect you had on him.

“So this is your solution?” he finally said as you adjusted the razor once more in your hand, opening it up to reveal the glint of the sharp blade in the light. His eyes went between your position on his lap then over to the dangerous object in your hands.

You looked at him with a questioning gaze, “Are you going to lie and tell me this isn’t what you had in mind when you commented about how this wouldn’t be good for my back if I had to bend?” your voice was almost mocking and he looked at you with narrowed eyes. “If I’m not mistaken, you never pass up an opportunity to have me using you as a chair,” the innuendo was there, but you wondered if he’d even notice with how his eyes were transfixed on the razor you held.

“I was thinking you could come behind the couch and lay my head back, or perhaps pull up a chair,” he said calmly and you rolled your eyes. The way his eyes shifted slightly was the only indicator you needed to tell he was lying. After knowing him for so long you knew his tells; generally you didn’t press him about these things, but in situations like this you didn’t mind calling him out.

“I’m sure you were thinking that, weren’t you?” you said, tone still mocking, “However I am the Chief Surgeon, Mr. Li. You have to understand that my methods might be unorthodox, however they yield good results,” you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for being able to say that without needing to stutter or think over your wording. All those hours of watching horrible medical dramas were finally paying off it would seem.

“I’m just surprised you haven’t received any malpractice suits for how you treat your patients,” he said as you finally grabbed hold of his chin. You moved his face to the side to get a good angle and looked at him with an entertained gaze.

“I have very good lawyers, sir,” you began and slowly brought the razor up to his face, “Now for this part I need you to be absolutely still, and no smart remarks,” it was clear he wanted to say something more, but he was tense under you as the razor finally met his skin.

It was a simple swipe, getting the small bit of stubble off as well as a lump of the shaving cream. The towel you had previously used for your hand was now resting on his shoulder for you to wipe the razor clean on. You used one hand to stretch the skin and did another swipe, following by a third in quick succession. Being a hunter did mean you had to have a lot of skills with weapons, and in your mind you were thinking of the razor like you would a dagger, applying just the right amount of pressure to get rid of the hair without cutting into someone.

You wiped the razor clean again and smirked, running your thumb over the now shaved part of his cheek, “There we go, so far so good,” you cooed, looking at Zayne. He seemed to have relaxed a lot after the first swipe, realizing that you weren’t about to filet his face with the razor.

“I’m curious, have you ever shaved someone’s face before,” he said as you adjusted your angle once more, letting the razor glide gently across his cheek. His eyes met yours briefly as he asked this, seeing how concentrated you were, however, your body was also completely relaxed.

“Would you be surprised if I said this was my first time performing this procedure on a patient?” you teased, a playful smile on your lips as you quickly swiped another section and finished that side of his cheek.

“You’re doing an outstanding job so far, so I thought you might be experienced at least with the tool,” he was implying something, but like hell you’d rise to the bait. Did he know you played with his razor before…no there was no way he would’ve figured that one out. Playing dumb seemed to be the best solution as you took in a deep, calming breath.

“Sir, I need to remind you to be still for me,” you said as your gaze met his. You noticed a subtle glint of something in his eyes and you forced down the smirk threatening to break your professional demeanor. He was definitely starting to get off with the powerplay that was happening and you wondered how much you could tease him while doing this.

“Understood, I won’t move,” he said as he glanced at you then turned his gaze elsewhere. It was enough for you to relax as you moved his head so you could begin on the other side of his face. For a moment he was being good, letting you move his face however you needed him. His eyes were closed as you worked the razor on him and shaved his face so it would be smooth once again.

When you were wiping the razor clean for the umpteenth time he deemed it necessary to open his mouth, “Is this your exclusive service?” He tried teasing you, but it was clear what the brat was currently doing. Obviously defying what you had just said to see the reaction he could get from you.

“Mr Li…” you began, your voice soft and gentle. The grip on his chin right now was anything but as you looked down at him with a sneer, “Don’t,” you moved his face more to the side, “Move,” you finished as you pressed the razor against his skin.

You had to wait a second as you saw a shiver going down Zayne’s spin and you smirked. His breath had hitched at the tone of your voice you had used and you licked your lips at his reaction. Thankfully he was now looking away from you, probably trying to process his own thoughts, and didn’t catch the lustful gaze you had as your eyes raked up and down his body.

You watched as his cock literally twitched, the movement not subtle in the slightest when the only thing separating you was the silky robe. He clearly was hard underneath it, but from the looks of it he was trying to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Going back to work in cleaning him off, you work on his chin. Your face was now close to him as you made sure you got everything and he was clearly trying to avoid looking at you. You were currently leaning a little more into him, but not touching where he clearly needed some stimulation. You then felt your body shifting a little as he tried to adjust without actually touching you.

You let him, noticing how he was trying to adjust so you couldn’t see how obvious his erection was. You decided to keep stern and cleared your throat, “You’re moving again,” it was hard keeping your tone cold as you said this. He froze, his eyes darting to you like a child who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He cleared his throat, “My apologies,” he murmured as he looked away from you again. He went back to being still, but you just stared at him for a moment, wondering exactly what was going through his head. You knew he was getting all hot and bothered, but normally he wasn’t trying to hide it from you. Then it dawned on you as a grin grew on your face.

One thing that never got tiring was how Zayne got turned on so easily when it came to you. You knew that before you had gotten together he hadn’t slept with anyone, and the poor man had seldom even touched himself. That meant at the start he was getting hard just by staring at you for a little too long. It was a cute quirk of his, at least you thought so.

Zayne however didn’t think it was all that amusing and often had to hide his erection because they would happen at the worst times. He also sucked at noticing when you were trying to get him hard on purpose, even in the most obvious of settings like this one. You were literally sitting on his lap, using a stern voice, and playing into his medical kink slightly…and the man probably was thinking he shouldn’t be getting this hot and bothered right now.

Or perhaps it was due to the fact that he didn’t want to accidentally grind into you while you had a razor to his neck…it could be either or. All you knew for a fact was how cute he looked right now with the most subtle blush on his cheeks as he tried his hardest to pretend like he wasn’t bricked up just by you sitting on his thighs and shaving his face.

You couldn’t help yourself, adjusting yourself to find a better angle and making sure to grind your ass along his length. You watched his throat bob as he held back a moan, getting a nice reaction out of him from the most subtle stimulation. You did it again, allowing it to be a little less subtle as Zayne’s hands went to clamp down on your thighs, making you stop. His eyes frantically found your own as he went to open his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“Zayne?” you asked, leaning your body back enough to get a good look at him. He went back to avoiding your gaze, looking off to the side with flushed cheeks that you were tempted to pinch, “What’s going on? Did I hurt you?” you said next, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek and running your thumb over the smooth skin.

“I…no you didn’t,” his voice came out a little hoarse from his aroused state, his own hand grabbing yours and holding it against his face. He finally looked at you and you noticed how far gone he already was. If the twitch of his cock underneath your ass wasn’t telling enough, the way his pupils seemed to swallow a lot of the hazel in his eyes was your sign that he was losing his composure.

“Then why did you move? I’m almost done,” you said, leaning back in, “Just tip your head back and be a good boy for a little longer,” you breath now fanning over his cheek. A shiver went down his spine as he did so, leaning his head back as you worked the razor against it. After the cheek was finished you began in the underside of his neck which was probably the easiest part.

You slowly finished dragging the razor and then wiped it on the towel, “There we go…” you trailed off as you looked around. You sat up on your knees and leaned over Zayne to grab the towel next to him, your chest brushing against his face. The hands he had kept on your thighs squeezing as you grabbed what you needed.

You soon sat yourself back down, this time your ass now directly over his straining erection. He let out a sharp exhale of breath at the sensation and stared at you. He knew very well that you could feel him at this point, and with how you shifted on his lap to get comfortable he was groaning against you, attempting not to roll his own hips into you.

“Babe, you need to be good, we’re not done yet,” you scolded as you took the towel in your hand and began wiping off any excess cream on his face. You could see with the way his eyes narrowed that he had a small pout on his face, not that he’d ever admit to such a childish thing. It did have you smirking as you finished up and grabbed the next item on the list.

“What else needs to be done,” his fingers were twitching along your plush thighs, the robe you wore didn’t do much as it had ridden up to reveal most of your skin. Even the opening of your robe had fallen open to show some of your chest, the cool air of it making you shiver as you looked Zayne up and down. He wasn’t faring any better really with how he never even bothered tying his robe properly. The slightest shift could unravel the entire thing.

You took the tube of aftershave in hand and applied some to your hand, “Aftershave, of course,” you smirked as you adjusted once more. He gasped out a moan, closing his eyes as your ass continued teasing his hardened length. You held back your own noises as you felt some wetness on your thigh from how his cock was leaking through the silk robes. Your hands made contact with his jaw and cheeks as you caressed his face and smoothed the after shave onto him.

“You seem distracted, Zayne,” you comment as you shift again. Every subtle movement sent a spike of arousal through Zayne as he tried focusing on your hands instead. The way they trailed so delicately over his face and the slightest sting from the aftershave balm you were applying. Your thigh brushed more onto his leaking erection as you felt just how wet he was getting and you relished in knowing it was all because of you.

He grit his teeth and took in a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down, “I’m not distracted in the slightest,” he said. He knew you could feel him with your movements, it was kind of hard not to. Zayne was well endowed and even in a pair of baggier pants it could be seen when he got riled up. Sitting directly on top of it with nothing more than two flimsy silk robes meant you could feel every single vein along his shaft.

“You sure?” you teased, adjusting once more and hearing him unable to hold back a moan which made you chuckle. It’s like it finally clicked in his mind that this entire time you have purposefully been teasing him. He was too adorable for words sometimes, especially with how he always gave you the benefit of the doubt. Seeing that mental click in his brain as he looked at you with his eyes widened had you rewarding him with another drag of your hips against him.

Your hands went back to gingerly rub in the aftershave and he was looking at you with knowing eyes, almost calculating your next move, “You’ve been teasing me this entire time,” it was a statement rather than a question.

“How nice of you to finally notice, my love,” you said, pinching his cheeks slightly. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a quick kiss while holding him in place, “Don’t forget you were the one teasing me in the bathroom earlier. Kissing me like that, making my head spin, and then saying we needed to hurry up and shave. You tried distracting me earlier, didn’t you?” you said, now obviously rutting onto him and using more pressure.

The grasp he had on your thighs now moved over to your hips, squeezing the skin there as he helped you along with grinding on him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he groaned out, rolling his hips into your ass and closing his eyes. His mouth was opened as you leaned in, your grip on him changing from holding onto his cheeks to one hand on his bare chest and the other on the nape of his neck dragging him closer.

You let out a groan of your own into his mouth, feeling how his cock was sliding perfectly against you with every thrust upwards. You knew you’d be soaking through this robe in no time as your tongue played against the roof of Zayne’s mouth, drinking him in and making sure his head was spinning just like he had done to yours earlier.

After a moment of kissing him you leaned away, making sure to lick his lip first teasingly. He was already panting as he looked at you, his hips still rolling up. You sat up and placed yourself back on his thigh and you could hear the pitiful whine that left him. His rosy cheeks only grew darker after he realized the noise that left him, but he opted to pretend like it didn’t happen.

He was about to say something when he noticed where your eyes were trailing to. You could see the clear outline of his cock through the robes, the member standing proudly and creating a large bump. The most intriguing part was where there was a very obvious wet mark where the head of it would go. You had felt it earlier, sure, but now you could see a bead of precum that was on top of it that shined slightly.

You licked your lips and grasped his dick then thumbed over the head of it through the robes, feeling the precum seeping through the material, “Fuck Zayne, you’re already so wet,” you said as you teased his cock. Zayne’s hips bucked up into your touch as he sought out more friction, his head rolling back at finally feeling something wrapped around him. Hearing those filthy words leaving your mouth was doing something to him as he felt his entire body getting hotter.

“Fuck Zayne, you look so good like this…” your free hand went to the tie of your robe, quickly undoing it and letting the material fall and pool around your hips and thighs. Zayne’s eyes were now on your body, trailing up and down before he landed on your face. He seemed to have melted the moment his eyes met your own.

He made a good attempt at steeling himself, “You look breathtaking right now, darling,” he sat up and used his grip on you to pull you closer. His lips collided with yours as he deepened the kiss, he never could get enough of your taste as he groaned at the sensation of your hand never leaving his hardening length. His hands now on your bare skin as he cupped under your ass and lifted you enough to drag the rest of the robes away, discarding them to the ground.

When you parted you began peppering kisses all along his jaw and neck, “I think I’m going to ride you tonight, Zayne,” your hand left his cock and trailed up to his robe tie now, playing with the silken material before slowly undoing the sloppy knot. Zayne’s breath hitched at your words, the mental image of your cunt wrapped around his cock while you bounced on his lap was more than he could handle. As the robe left his body to expose him you could see just how hard his cock had gotten; the head of it was red and dribbling with pre over the rest of the shaft.

“Please don’t forget,” he swallowed, “I’m on call tonight,” he threw his head back as your hand went to wrap around his length without any barriers between you. You tugged on his cock, letting your hand glide easily over him as you teased him and listened to the pretty noises leaving his mouth. His warning came far too late with how fucked out he already was; you found the entire situation amusing as you rose an eyebrow to look down at him.

“They’re just phone calls,” you dismissed it easily with your grip tightening and making him whimper, “You can answer them while I’m riding you. You just have to not moan like a whore into your phone and it’ll be fine, right?” it was impossible for Zayne not to be vocal while you were on him. He normally was so good at masking his emotions and expressions, but when it came to you he became an open book. You could read him so easily and draw out emotions he thought were long gone.

His breath caught in his throat; with either anxiety or arousal was to be seen. You riding him while he took a work call was surely going to end horribly and he knew it, but he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to your words. His cock twitched in your grasp and you could see another bead forming on the tip which your thumb swiped over and used to slicken up your hold on him.

“That wouldn’t be a good-ah,” he groaned with how your pace picked up in stroking him; his words lost on his tongue as he stared up at you. His hips jerked up into your touch in a feeble attempt to fuck your closed fist and get more stimulation.

Of course this reaction didn’t go unnoticed by you as you looked at Zayne with a smirk, “Really babe, you’re leaking everywhere and you’re trying to tell me this isn’t something you want?” You took your hand away and licked your thumb, never breaking eye contact with him. You watched the turmoil in his eyes as he observed your pink tongue licking at the precum that had dribbled out.

“I…ah!” his words died again as you went to stroke his length faster, your grip tighter than before. Your chuckle echoed in the room as you tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to continue, “Don’t think…mhm,” he was losing his own wits at the moment, opting to just let you do whatever you wanted. He knew it was a losing battle, the way you felt was always too good for him to simply pass up.

It was only when you lifted up and began hovering over his cock, positioning it at your entrance that he stopped you. His grip tightening as he looked at you, “You know you can’t take my length without preparation,” his tone was near scolding as he looked at you. For the first time since he made out with you in the shower, the stern Zayne came out and looked at you with hard eyes.

You let out a small and annoyed whine, “You’re on call for consultations and meetings, Dr. Li,” you began with a pout in hopes he’d just give it up, “Do we really have the time for all that?” you just wanted to feel his length stretching you out already. With all the teasing and cute reactions you had gotten from Zayne, it had also left you feeling wet and needy for the man. You just happened to have better self control at times…or perhaps your need to make him whimper overrode your own need to fuck him.

Zayne’s grip didn’t lessen at all, “We always have time to prepare you,” now it was your turn to blush. He said it with such finality you had to groan a little bit.

“Alright, fine, have it your way,” you guessed this would be fine, at least now you had a chance to walk tomorrow. Zayne was huge in every sense of the way, and normally even with preparation if you took his entire length you sometimes wouldn’t be walking straight for a day or two. He always tried to stop you from taking all of him anytime you two fucked, but the moment your pussy was wrapped around him all of his sensability went out the door. You loved feeling all of him every single time you fucked him, which is why you preferred being on top. It was teasing whenever he was on top and he only fucked you with part of his length.

“I just have no idea why you’re so fascinated with being put in a wheelchair,” you gasped at his words and then looked away. A small smile was now working its way onto your lips though at the horribly made joke. He wasn’t wrong about needing a wheelchair part. If you fucked him without prep that might actually end up happening. Last time it had happened you ended up calling out of work because you literally couldn’t walk without an obvious limp.

“Come here,” he said, lifting you up until you were now balanced on your knees. He dragged you closer to him as he adjusted himself in his spot, leaning his head back onto the couch. You then realized the position he had grabbed you in, your cunt now right in his face, almost dripping onto his chest, “Just like that,” he murmured, tugging your thighs apart so he'd have easier access.

The moment his tongue licked up your folds for the first time you knew you were going to be putty in this man’s hands. The amount of times he had eaten you out is immeasurable at this point. He had your body down to a science and he was more than happy to use it in situations like these.

You groaned as he lapped at your wet cunt, his mouth forming a small suction around your clit as he worked to get a good taste of you. One hand coming up to prod a finger into your entrance which made you gasp. Your hips rolled into his face as he slipped it inside, crooking it into your pussy as he began leisurely pumping into you. Despite how you knew he had things to do he seemed intent on taking his time to do this correctly.

You groaned, noticing how he was going too slow, his tongue simply playing with your clit as his single finger fucked up into you. He was doing this on purpose now, you knew you were wet enough for a second and probably third finger inside of you. His eyes glanced up at you in that moment, taking you in and you could see the look in his eyes that told you he was planning on keeping up with this pace and bringing you to a slow orgasm tonight.

With a small, annoyed groan your hand went to his hair, tugging harshly to get his attention, “Zayne,” your voice came out low and threatening, “Don’t tease me unless you want me to edge you for the next few hours,” if he wanted to be slow with eating your cunt, then you’d happily just sit on his cock and warm him for a few hours, moving the moment he began relaxing to get him riled up again. You had done it several times in the past when he decided it would be fun to be a cheeky bastard. Normally by the end of the second hour he was so fucked out he could barely think and begging you to just move already.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes for a moment and feel him taking in a sharp breath at your words. Zayne is admittedly a slut when it comes to your whims, and something you noticed about him is that he enjoyed being edged. He also knew that now wasn’t the time. Not when there was a possibility of getting a work call at any moment. While you doubted anyone would be calling him at this time anyway, there was still a chance.

Zayne let out a low moan, his tongue now working properly on your pussy, lapping at your juices and you could hear the smacking noises of his lips against you. He slipped a second finger inside, quickly scissoring into you and working you open for his cock. Your head was thrown back as he finally began giving you what you wanted. The slow build up was sometimes nice, but you were far too needy at the moment and his cock was the only thing on your mind.

The grip in his hair stayed consistent as Zayne began getting lost with the taste of you, your juices dripping down his chin as his free hand gripped your ass to drag you closer to him. He was groaning and you could see how he tried rolling his ups up into nothing as he worked on bringing you to the brink. You rewarded him with a loud moan that echoed off the walls of the room, looking down at him with a smile.

“Fuck,” you groaned out, now rolling your hips into his face as you felt yourself getting closer, “Such a good boy,” your breathing became labored and Zayne could definitely feel how your cunt pulsed around his fingers. You were getting closer by the second as you looked down at the man. He looked utterly disheveled at the moment, his eyes closed as he got lapped at your pussy like a starved man.

You ground your hips against his mouth a few more times before letting out a cry, your cunt tightening around his digits as you came. The tension in you snapping as you rode his face, feeling how he was angling his fingers to graze against that sensitive spot inside you as he worked you through it. Your juices now trailing down onto his chest, and the noises in the room were nothing but your panting and the loud slurping noises of Zayne drinking you in.

By the time you came down your thighs were almost shaking. You loosened your hold on Zayne’s hair and moved away for a moment. His chin was shiny and wet as Zayne brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking off the rest of your essence. He groaned at your taste, his eyes never leaving yours and a shiver went down your spine as you adjusted yourself back into his lap. You grabbed the back of his head, dragging him close until you were crashing your lips against his.

You could taste yourself so clearly on his tongue and Zayne melted into your lips right away. His tongue playing with your own as he groaned, clearly already fucked out and he hadn’t even cum yet. He was so content though as you explored his mouth, moaning as the taste until you were pulling away with a gentle nip on his lower lip.

“I think you might’ve enjoyed yourself more than I did,” you said, your voice coming out a little labored still as you went to wipe away some of the slick on his chin. Your eyes trailed down between your bodies and you could see a small pool of his pre cum on his abs, his cock head red from how turned on he was at the moment.

Zayne looked down to see the mess he had made on himself then back up at you, “I always enjoy making you feel good,” he said as he cupped your ass, his eyes were needy and filled with longing that it caught you off guard, “If you want to use me, you have my permission,” his cock twitched once again and you smiled. You leaned in quickly, capturing him in a quick kiss and nuzzling his nose with your own. He was so vulnerable with you now and days, and words like this always set your heart speeding.

“Did you want me to use you, pretty boy? Ride you and use your cock until I cum again?” you asked, your voice coming out gently as you press your lips against his skin. Your mouth trailing kisses along his neck, leaving a few small nips in your wake. He could wear one of his turtle necks tomorrow for all you cared, you just wanted to see him littered in marks right now. You were sucking harshly at the junction between his neck and collarbone and managed to leave a pretty red mark there that you kissed gently as you rose up.

Zayne could clearly see what you were doing but at this point he didn’t care, all rationality was lost, “Yes, please,” his voice quivered as he admitted his desires. It sent a shiver down your spine as you went in to suck another nice red mark on his collarbone and let off, looking at him with a lascivious gaze.

You grasped his cock in your hand, pumping it then placing the head right at your entrance. You could feel the bluntness of it and shivered, knowing the stretch would probably sting only a little bit since he had worked you opened. One day you swore your pussy would become accustomed to his size, molded to it. Still the intimacy between you two was still relatively new, only going on for a handful of months. You hadn’t fucked him in two weeks before this due to conflicting schedules and you were dying to feel him again. Zayne’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he watched as you slowly began taking his cock into you.

Zayne grasped the back of your neck, dragging you to his lips as he began kissing you. It was sloppy and hurried as his hips bucked up into you as he tried getting you to take more of him. His cock slid more into you and managed to hit your sweet spot and you took in a sharp inhale of breath. It was clear how much he wanted to feel your pussy clenched around his length as you smirked against his mouth. You let out a moan yourself, feeling how his cock was almost nestled all the way inside of you. You wondered briefly if it would be a good idea to take all of him tonight. Two weeks wasn’t that long ago, you could probably take it this time around.

You braced your arms on his chest as you sat up to get a good view of him. You didn’t even have a chance to begin moving when you saw Zayne’s arm coming up to cover his face. He let out a loud groan while he rolled his hips up into you. You could feel his cock twitching and then the warmth filling you up. Your eyes widened as you realized he was coming just from having you sitting on his cock. He had been more worked up than you originally thought, and it sent jolts of pleasure through you as he continued bucking up into you to ride it out.

His thrusts were shallow while he let out pretty moans that were muffled as he tried biting into his own arm out of embarrassment. That clearly wouldn’t do as you grasped his arm suddenly and moved it away from his face, pinning it to the couch above you. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, jaw hanging open as he let out a whiny moan.

“Don’t hide yourself, sweetheart. I wanna see you,” you rolled your hips into him as you helped him through his orgasm. His freehand went to grasp your ass and squeezed it harder than he intended as he tried moving you along his cock. He was almost shaking from how good it must’ve felt and as he slowly started to come down he looked down between your bodies.

He could see some of his release coming out of you, dripping onto his lap and coating his cock in the substance. The creamy mixture of your joined fluids was almost too much for him as his cock gave a final spurt into you.

“Did it feel that good to be buried in my pussy that you came instantly?” You asked as you brought your hand to his still wet chin. You made him look at you and he could see the mischievous glint in your eyes as he tried looking away. You chuckled, dragging him in for another kiss and grabbing his discarded robe next to you to wipe away some of the mess on his chin. He was panting into your mouth as you bit down hard on his lip.

Instead of leaving marks in your wake you were content with just leaving sweet kisses all over his face as he caught his breath. He was clearly enjoying himself with how his eyes closed and he relaxed into your touches. After a few more moments he was finally able to speak, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyes opened to look at you. The embarrassment at coming the moment his cock was put into you was clearly there, but you found it more adorable if anything.

“Don’t be sorry,” you said gently, cupping his cheek. You watched as he leaned into your touch and smiled, “Besides, I’m not done with you just yet, Zayne,” you said and his eyes shot over to you. You felt his cock move inside of you and you smirked, “Looks like you’re not done either,”

His cock might’ve been softening inside of you right now, but you were intent on keeping him inside of you as long as possible. Before Zayne could protest you began rolling your hips onto his sensitive cock; a gasp left his mouth as he watched the way you were moving. Zayne had always been so easy to overstimulate, and the time it took for him to get hard again was always so fast it sometimes surprised you.

His grip tightened as he watched you lift off his dick slightly then roll back down, taking his softening length back into you. He hissed and closed his eyes, “W-wait…” he groaned, needing a minute before you properly began fucking him. You let out a hum, your hand on his chest as you pushed him back so he was pressed into the couch. You leaned up onto him with your hips still moving at a slow and agonizing pace for him.

“Wait? Zayne, you’re in call dear, we don’t have time to wait,” you teased him. You could see the cogs in his head turning at that and he bit his lower lip as he attempted to control himself, closing his eyes as he tried to not focus on the uncomfortable feeling of his sensitive cock being squeezed by you.

“Please…” he whimpered out and you chuckled at how breathy his voice was at the moment. You cupped his chin, forcing him to look at you. His cock was slowly starting to harden again, but it still felt too sensitive to be wrapped so tightly inside your pussy.

“Please what?” you cooed, your thumb pressing on his bottom lip. He tried to say something, but words were lost to him as he felt you squeezing around him, instead a small gasp left him as his hips moved up into you. You clicked your tongue and shook your head, “Remember earlier when I was shaving your face?” he was silent again and you applied more pressure to his lip, “Zayne, use your words,”

“Yes,” he said, swallowing thickly as he looked up at you, his adam's apple moving with the motion. His eyes were starting to get a little wet from the overstimulation and you groaned at the sight of him.

“You said you’d stay still,” you reminded him and he nodded in response, “Can you stay still for me again?” you cocked your head to the side and waited for him.

“I can…but why?” he said; as soon as the words left he realized what you had implied. Instead of placing your hands on him you put them on the couch behind him. You used it as leverage and raised a singular brow while smirking down at him. The way you seemed locked on meant only one thing.

You began riding him in earnest, your ass bouncing on his lap as you used the couch as leverage to help you. Your loud moans started filling the room as you felt his thick cock stretching you out. You still hadn’t even taken all of him yet but you were already feeling like you were getting close as you pressed your chest against him. Every single vein of his dick felt heavenly as you threw your head back to let out loud moans that allowed him to know just how good he was making you feel. He did say you could use him as your own personal toy if you really wanted to, so you were simply taking advantage of the offer.

Despite how he said he would sit still he couldn’t help as he began kissing your chest. They were bouncing right in front of him and he groaned, the wet smacking noises of his lips against your chest joined in with your moans. You felt his warm mouth latch onto one of your nipples making you keen, pressing your chest closer to his face.

“Fuck, Zayne, just like that,” you groaned, not bothering to scold him for being disobedient when he was making you feel so damn good. He was managing to keep his hips from fucking up into you at the moment so that would have to be good enough. Zayne moaned against your chest, his tongue laving over your hardened bud before popping off and kissing between your chest. Zayne swore if you allowed him he would stay like this, just kissing and sucking at your chest. He was starting to leave marks all over your skin without remorse, loving how the red seemed to bloom like roses on your skin.

You clench tightly around him as he presses gentle kisses against your skin and you feel your pace faltering a little bit. You were getting so damn close to coming already just from how he stretched you out so perfectly. You bit your lip as you tried picking up the speed to help reach your orgasm sooner, angling so your clit hit his pelvis with every stroke.

You felt his cock twitching again and you were so close to the cusp of getting to cum, and you were certain he was almost there as well. Then it was absolutely ruined the moment you heard a familiar ring tone coming from the side table next to you. You both paused, your cunt halfway on his cock as you both slowly looked over at his phone. It was flashing with the caller ID of one of the doctor’s you recognized from the convention.

The blonde female’s name popped up and you turned back to Zayne. It was nearly ten at night currently, and you didn’t know why the fuck someone would be calling. You could see the look in Zayne’s eyes as he truly debated if he was going to answer it. He did say he was on call for things regarding the conventions, meetings, and even emergency patient consultations. Still, at this time of night unless it was a patient or a coworker, did anyone really have a right to be calling him? If it was that important they could’ve sent him an email about the events of the convention rather than calling him at a time where most people should be asleep.

Zayne looked back at you, “I have to…answer this…” he sounded defeated as he looked back at his phone. You let out a sigh, reaching over and grabbing his phone. His hand was already out for you to place the device in his palm. He looked at the phone then back at you, “I’m…” he was about to apologize but you shook your head with a small smile. Even if you felt a little bubble of rage inside of you, you quelled it. You knew how important his job was. Hell if your Hunter’s watch went off you’d probably be jumping off his dick and grabbing your guns.

“Just answer it,” you said, knowing that in two rings it would go to voicemail. He finally swiped up on the phone and put it against his ear.

You could hear the female doctor’s voice on the other line who seemed surprised that Zayne had actually answered at this time. You frowned at how peppy the woman sounded and you could only barely hear her at the moment. Your eyes narrowed at the device and Zayne began giving short replies to the woman and attempted to keep his breathing even.

“Yes, tomorrow at eleven,” you heard Zayne murmur into the receiver followed by a, “Before the meeting?” and now your eyes were widened. You could tell that this phone call clearly wasn’t an important one, which you had suspected. That woman was from a different hospital, however she had met with Zayne at a previous doctor’s seminar about two months back. When you two had been walking around the convention center earlier today she had seemed overly friendly with him, going so far as to touch his arm while speaking. You had almost broken her hand at that since Zayne had tensed up the moment the woman had touched him.

It didn’t sit right with you, especially judging by how Zayne was speaking to her while balls deep in you. You made a motion for Zayne to put it on speaker and at first he shook his head, but one glare from you and he was moving the phone away from his ear and clicking the button so you could hear the conversation. You gave him a smile in response for listening to you.

“Yes, since the panel tomorrow was a little bit later in the evening I was wondering if you’d like to perhaps grab some coffee before it. I heard you have a sweet tooth and I know a place close to the convention center that has amazing milk tea,” the peppy woman on the other end began saying and you looked between the phone then over to Zayne. She was calling at ten so she could…ask him out on a coffee date for tomorrow morning? She…she had seen you two together. Sure PDA wasn’t something you guys partook in at events like this. You were certain that Zayne had made sure to introduce you as his partner though to everyone who had asked, including her. She knew he was a taken man.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to decline,” Zayne began but the other doctor seemed very persistent when she was speaking to him. Her voice even dropped to be a little more…seductive perhaps?

“Are you certain? They also have some items for breakfast we could try. I heard their cinnamon rolls were to die for, and I think they make fresh macaroons every morning,” how did this bitch find out she could tempt him with macarons? Who fucking told her? Greyson was at this convention too, wasn’t he? You swore up and down that if he had told this woman about Zayne’s preferences in food you were going to give him an earful tomorrow when Zayne wasn’t looking.

You gave Zayne the look as he seemed to think over the offer for a brief moment. You absolutely would not be having him thinking about going to breakfast with someone who was clearly trying to get into his pants. You decide to squeeze yourself around him and Zayne let out a small gasp at the sudden stimulation that he hadn’t been expecting.

His wide eyes looked at you, shaking his head as if pleading for you to not do this. You smirked though, clearly satisfied with how he reacted to just a little bit of teasing. Your hands left the back of the couch so you could rest them on his chest, your fingers going around his nipples, but not touching them; a small warning for him to tread carefully and probably end the phone call the moment he could.

“Zayne, is everything alright?” hearing this woman calling him by his first name instead of Dr. Li sent a spike of hot rage through you. You thought to yourself that perhaps you weren’t an overly jealous person, but that solidified that you could be downright nasty when someone was trying to hit on Zayne. Especially since the man didn’t seem to think anything of it, probably assuming it was just a casual conversation and she wasn’t flirting with him. Even you had to be extremely forward before he realized you were actually trying to flirt with him.

You looked at Zayne with a loving smile, your hand trailing up his chest and into his hair for a brief moment. He looked at you confused before letting out the loudest moan as you slammed down fully on his cock, taking all of him suddenly. You could feel the sting going through you as his cock slammed into your cervix, but you managed to school your expression as you had priorities.

The other end of the receiver was silent for a moment as there was no way the noise of you dropping down on his cock, and then his moan could’ve been mistaken for anything else. You knew damn well that you were caught having sex during a phone call, but honestly you didn’t care. You weren’t about to sit idly while someone flirted with your boyfriend while you were sitting on his dick.

“He’s busy right now,” you stated bluntly, “And he’s going to be similarly busy tomorrow morning as well,” your voice was clipped. The woman began stammering out a reply as she processed what was going on, but you had grabbed the phone and hung up on her. You tossed the device somewhere on the couch where it was out of sight and out of mind. You didn’t care who else tried calling him tonight, you refused to let him answer another call…and honestly probably after he fell asleep tonight you were going to block that other doctor’s number from his phone.

Zayne looked at you with both shock and something else hidden beneath the depths of those gorgeous eyes of his. He licked his lips and furrowed his brows as he cleared his throat, “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his cheeks very red now. He always was a stickler for keeping up his reputation, but at the moment you really didn't give a damn. If that woman wanted to spread rumors about Zayne getting laid over the phone, she’d have to admit she was flirting with the man in the first place. Besides, it might send a message to everyone else that he was very much taken.

“Well she did see us together at the convention center,” you began as you rose up on his cock. He groaned at the feeling of your slick walls gliding on him, “So she knew you were a taken man yet she still wanted to try and get you to go on a date with her,” you slowly descended back down on his dick until it was fully nestled into you. You leaned forward and pressed kisses behind his ear as you whispered, “Honestly if she tries that shit again I’ll fuck you right in front of her next time so she can see what a needy mess you become for me and me only,”

Zayne wasn’t prepared as you began bouncing on his cock quickly, accentuating every roll of your hips when he bottomed out. He had his head thrown back as he groaned loudly into the room, not prepared for you to go so fast again. His dick was twitching like crazy and you knew he was getting close and you were thrilled at the thought of him filling you up again. His neck was on full display and you began sucking a mark right on his jaw line where he wouldn’t be able to hide it unless he wore a scarf up to his damn mouth.

You squeezed his cock so perfectly, and the way that your body looked above him did things to Zayne he had never thought possible before meeting you. His eyes never leaving your face or chest, depending on which one came into view as you fucked yourself on him. It was like you were using his body as a toy, an instrument for your own pleasure. The sweat pearled on your skin and slid down the valley of your breasts and he leaned in, licking the salty mess and groaned.

“I’m close,” it was a warning from Zayne; to help you decide if you wanted to slow down and prolong your own pleasure, or to let him tumble over that perfect edge and paint your insides. With how your pace didn’t falter he decided it was the later, “Ah ah ah,” his panting against your chest made you chuckle. Your hand threaded into his hair and pressed him closer.

“Baby, play with my chest again. Want to feel that mouth of yours,” you groaned and he didn’t hesitate. His tongue quickling found one of your nipples and bit down around it. You jerked your hips on him and he knew he was done for.

He hid his moans into your chest, playing with your nipple as he came inside of you. The warmth spread over you and you bucked your hips, rolling them against his perfectly as he came inside of you. You were moaning alongside him, the noises mingling perfectly together as you settled on his lap and just ground yourself on his cock to help him through his second orgasm.

You felt him bucking up into you again, his body moving on his own. His hand twitched on your ass and then grabbed a fistful of it and tried dragging you closer and you chuckled. You watched him pop off your breast with a wet noise and he looked up at you panting.

His head was fuzzy and he couldn’t think of something to say, but it looked like he didn’t have to. For the second time that night he watched as you began riding his sensitive cock right after his orgasm. This time he let out a sharp gasp. His hands were on your hips in a weak attempt to hold you down, but as a hunter you managed to have a little more strength than him, especially after he had just come and was still blissed out from it.

“Zayne, lemme cum too, fuck I’m so close lemme ride you for a little longer,” your voice was so melodic as you said this, your hips not letting up in the slightest as you literally used him as a dildo at the moment. There wasn’t much he could do but help you work through your pleasure, so that’s what he did. He sat up and you felt his cock moving in you, dragging against your sweet spot as he managed to get a new angle inside of you without even trying.

He placed one of his hands into your hair and dragged your head closer to him as he began leaving wet kisses all over your neck and collarbone. His other hand was going between your bodies and pressing down on your clit before rubbing in the way he knew made you go crazy. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to last long with how you felt around him, and he knew if he came again before you did he would be too fucked out for the rest of the evening to do anything.

The added stimulation had you gasping, pussy squeezing so perfectly around him that he was whimpering. His cock never had a chance to get soft as it was still hard inside of you. “F-fuck Zayne, mhn ah so so fucking clo-close babe,” you said as he groaned against your neck and left a red mark in a place you also wouldn’t be able to hide, essentially giving you a matching hicky.

You wanted to say something witty about how fucked out he was that he didn’t care if people saw the results of your romps, but your head was swimming right now as you let out a series of sweet moans. Zayne’s hips rolled in time with your own and you felt how he twitched inside of you, “Z-Zayne,” you whined, “C-can you cum again, sweetheart?” you gasped out as you felt his teeth grazing that soft spot between your ear and neck.

The way you felt his cock moving inside of you was enough to let you know he could. His refractory period had always been so damn short and one day you swore you’d explore just how fast and many times you could make him cum in an hour. Right now though you just wanted to cum yourself as you worked your hips perfectly on him and chased your high.

It didn’t take much, not with how his hand was working your clit and his cock abused your g-spot every time you impaled yourself on him. Your pussy clenched tightly like a vice around him and your thighs quivered as you cried out. You came hard, your juices flowing on his cock and it was enough to send him into his third orgasm of the night.

The combination of your tight pussy and the overstimulation had him spilling inside of you, filling you to the breaking point as his release flowed down out since you couldn’t contain it all inside. He was whimpering as you rode out your high, closing your eyes and holding his shoulder so tightly you were certain there would be bruising. His whines went perfectly with your own panting as you finally found yourself coming down to earth, sliding down on his cock weakly.

Zayne’s head was still nestled in the crook of your neck and you worked on shrugging him off. When he finally looked back at you his eyes were glassy and you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. He went on autopilot, accepting your affections as he opened his mouth. It was lazy as you made out with him, tongue pressing against his own in a slow and sloppy kiss. Neither of you cared at the moment though, just savoring the moment of being like this.

Your chest was heaving as you parted, pressing your forehead against his own and closing your eyes. You were both sweaty and absolute messes, making your previous shower absolutely useless in hindsight. You chuckled at the thought, your hands running through his hair and playing with it as you smiled against him.

“What’s so funny?” his voice was husky and quiet as he asked this and you opened your eyes to stare at him.

“We made a mess right after our shower,” you commented and he let out a huff. He was clearly coming back to his senses as you just sat there instead of moving and overstimulating him again. His hands now laid on your thighs again, giving them a small squeeze.

“Who’s fault is that?” he murmured, making you laugh again and pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“You’re the one who got hard from me shaving your face,” you remind him calmly, “Didn’t know you had a kink for sharp objects being pressed against you,”

“I do not have that kink,” he grumbled, but his argument was invalid after you felt him twitch inside of you. You let out another laugh and leaned back a little to cup his face.

“You sure about that?” The way his eyes avoided you was all you needed for an answer. You shook your head and decided to rest against his chest for a little longer. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer and placed his chin on top of your head. The moment was serene as you basked in the afterglow.

Instead of giving you an answer he just cleared his throat, “We need to clean up,” now it was your turn to groan at his words. He always was so anal about doing things properly with aftercare when all you ever wanted to do was cuddle with him and fall asleep. Of course if you fucked him to the point where he couldn’t think properly you would take the mantle, but it seemed today he was still well enough to have common sense…you’d fuck him senseless next time.

“Just a little longer,” you tried convincing him by using a whinier voice than normal. You looked up at him through your eyelashes in a silent form of begging, hoping he’d just let you have your way like he normally would in situations that didn’t involve your actual health.

Zayne shook his head, “If I give into you now then you’ll just fall asleep, and I can’t have that,” okay well he might’ve been accurate in that assessment, but it didn’t mean you were about to give up on your goal of cuddling with him right now.

“Counter argument…I cock warm you and we go to sleep like this right here on the couch,” You tried to reason, but clearly Zayne was not about to let you do that.

“That’s not good for your health,” he watched as you groaned, “We need to clean up, you need to use the restroom, and after that we can lay down in a proper bed and go to sleep,” he made an attempt to reason but you were still pouting at the thought.

“Aren’t you tired?” you mumbled, “You came three times,” you reminded him as your hand trailed over his chest gently. You tried looking innocent despite the fact that you had been riding this man and overstimulating him for around an hour at this point.

“I’m still fully capable of standing…” he said and you watched the corners of his mouth twitch, “Besides, you’ve done worse in the past,” you gasped and looked at him with an open mouth. Okay just because you’ve fucked him to the point of crying in the past and had him shooting blanks meant nothing.

You then smirked, “I mean…I can make you cum like four more times and then we’ll see if that statement pans out,” you chuckled at the thought. You wouldn’t mind wrapping your mouth around him and making him cum a few more times if it meant he’d be tired enough to not bother with getting off this couch. You just wanted to relax into him despite how tired you were and how your muscles ached. You knew damn well that you wouldn’t be able to ride him much longer if you tried, you already ached between your legs. It might’ve also been the reason you didn’t want to get off his dick at the moment, you knew that sore feeling would only fester the moment you did.

“Nope, not tonight, I have to do things tomorrow,” he said and he went to lift you up, but watched the small flinch the moment he slid you up on his cock. It seemed the real reason you wanted to couchrot finally clicked in his brain, “You took all of me…” he finally muttered as he looked down at you.

“Was I...not supposed to?” you asked and it was clear as day that you were guilty. Just like how he had things to do tomorrow, you did as well. Mainly accompanying him since you had insisted on joining him for a convention as his plus one. You had a full day of walking around a convention center.

He sighed and shook his head, “While I might be able to walk right now…can you?” he asked and you looked away and bit your lip.

“I mean…with a limp I could,” okay maybe slamming down on his cock during that phone call wasn’t your best decision, but you were feeling a little jealous and needed the bitch to know he was yours. You tended to make stupid decisions when it came to your jealousy. It didn’t happen often since most people understood they shouldn’t be flirting with a taken man, but when it did you never made smart decisions.

You let out a hiss as he finally lifted you off his dick and you could see the trail of your combined releases coming out of you and onto his lap. You’d have to clean this couch before it stained or else you’d be getting a nice little bill from the resort when you guys left. You could feel the ache so clearly now and it was written all over your face.

Zayne stood up with you still in his arms, making you lock your legs around his waist as he began carrying you into the bathroom. Your arms wrapped around him as you leaned closer to him, placing your chin on his shoulder as you let him carry you.

“Shouldn’t I be the one taking care of you right now?” you murmured, letting out a small yawn afterwards as you nuzzled into him.

“Your argument would be more valid if you could walk,” he said with an amused huff. The bathroom was now cool, a stark contrast to how warm the living room had been after your session. The air was significantly less thick and not smelling of sex which you weren’t sure if you loved or hated right now.

“Again, I can walk…just not well,” you stated as he placed you down on the counter. You leaned your back against the cool mirror as you watched him walk to the shower and turn it on again. You were certain this time around the shower would be quick and almost clinical as he took care of your needs, “Seriously this should be reversed,”

“You’ve already taken care of me, snowflake, now it’s my turn,” the sound of the nickname made you flush and you looked away for a brief moment. Zayne seemed amused by your reaction as he made his way back to you. His hands now on the back of your thighs as he got ready to pick you back up, “Do you think you’ll be okay for tomorrow? I can go out and buy some heating pads. I already have pain relievers in my bag,” he commented as he placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t think I need a wheelchair if that’s what you're asking…” you then smirked, “Although if you wanted to wheel me around in one tomorrow I won’t say no.” it would send a pretty good message to that one doctor…

“If you’re in that much pain tomorrow then you’ll be on bed rest,” he warned and you let out a groan.

“You know, Zayne,” you said as you pulled him closer to kiss him quickly, “It’s a good thing I love you,”

The way he looked at you was filled with so much affection it made your breath get caught in your throat. Even though he seldom was able to say the words himself you could tell in the way his eyes looked into your own that he loved you with every fiber of his being, “The feeling is mutual,” he leaned in again for a soft and sweet kiss that would always make you melt like snow. You smiled into it, allowing him to care for you once more for the night.

Aight it's here. It's finished. @anxiousgoddest I know you were excited for it so here is it. The fic. It's done. Also @zayne-li helped me a lot with coming up with some ideas for this so a big thank you!

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Zayne Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Zayne #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #zayne x reader #l&ds #l&ds zayne #l&ds zayne x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne #lads zayne x reader

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lorelune · 1 month ago

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O4O: part iii // PART 1

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega4omega w/ milfy jing yuan || wc: 17.6k of 37.3k || ao3 ||

You are on the precipice of your heat. Jing Yuan must cope and navigate his desires, both old and new.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

💦🎀 this piece is apart of SPRING FEVER: an omegaverse collab! 🎀💦

✨ O4O masterlist ✨ // part i �� part ii — part iii -> PART 1 (here) & PART 2

🩷 extended author's note

❣️ please note! part iii of o4o is separated into two posts here on tumblr. part 2 can be found linked above and at the end of this post as well. part iii is up as a single chapter on ao3 additionally! ❣️

notes: oh my god. loves. we made it. through blood, sweat, tears, a move, an irl relationship coming and going, WE MADE IT!!! i'm so excited for y'all to read and enjoy :'^) this piece would not have been able to be completed without the help of beloved betas (no a/b/o pun intended) @ofmermaidstories, @aimfor-theheart & @harmonydove. truly could not have done it without the feedback and encouragment :'^) all that said, please note the disclaimer above, stick around for part 2!!

CW: omegaverse, omega reader, omega jing yuan, top jing yuan (in this part) milfy jing yuan, mommy kink (both explicit and implicit), cry baby reader, fisting, knotting toys, biting, hurt/comfort, sickfic, past dan feng/jing yuan/yingxing, author-created omegaverse lore

— 💦. ݁₊⋆❀˖°🎀°˖❀⋆ ݁₊.💦 —

It’s sometime in the past, during a sizable gathering on a private veranda near the Artisanship Commission. The evening has whittled into night, the breeze temperate and only a bit balmy. The air teems with the scent of freshly-fried food, liquor, and company.

Casks of plum wine and amber mead sit scattered across the many tables poised across the pavilion. Even at this hour, the space is filled with lively folks, clustered into groups. Folks from across the six Commissions gather, energy rising into the late evening. Cups have already been filled, emptied, and then filled again, several times over.

Jing Yuan enjoys it. It’s reminiscent of bygone times, with enough newness to not feel chafing or make him overly melancholic.

The folks that mill around him and the other Charioteers are not his peers that he trained with as a young Cloud Knight, or his closest companions as a member of the High Cloud Quintet. They are mostly workers employed closely to the Charioteers. All of whom deserve a night out to destress. It’s ‘good for morale’— that’s what he had told Qingzu when he said the gathering would be held at the Seat of the Divine Foresight’s expense. She couldn’t find it in herself to scold him, as she more than likely knew that the General would secure her her own personal bottle of favored strawberry liquor as an unspoken, off-the-books bonus.

Qingzu is nowhere to be found now. Some of the guests have taken to roaming around the pavilion, spreading out amongst its ponds and large stone and crystal statues. They’re beautiful at night; Jing Yuan wanders this area often. He enjoys the stillness of it. The lushness of this particular garden lends itself to being quite private as well.

Not so much now, as Diviner Fu slaps her hands on the tabletop. Her scent mixes with the honeyed mix drink that she’s been nursing. She whinges at Yukong, something about budgeting and the maintenance of the Matrix, and how ‘having one Master Calibrator is hardly sufficient’, which Yukong doesn’t seem to be disagreeing with, but Yukong’s lack of total, enthusiastic validation seems to ruffle Fu Xuan sufficiently.

It’s cute to watch, Jing Yuan cannot lie.

He himself is fairly sober thankfully. With all of the scents swirling, it would likely be overwhelming if he were to add much alcohol into the mix. He has been sipping a small amount of wine, but nothing more. He’s a weepy drunk after all. And he would rather have that intimate knowledge remain safely with him, and not shared amongst the Commissions as a fresh piece of gossip.

(He plans to save his tears, if any, for his nest. Camaraderie tends to make him misty-eyed once it is over and he is alone again, naturally. The absence of companionship must be weathered accordingly and privately.)

As Jing Yuan opens his mouth to tease the imbibed Master Diviner, a firm hand lands on his shoulder.

”C’mon, it’s gettin’ late.” The hand pats him. “We gotta get you home, baby.”

There’s a moment of incredible stillness where the entire company of his table (the Charioteers, all of them—) stare at whoever is behind him, agape. It must look quite funny. Jing Yuan pauses with the warm contact. The scent of sunshine heat and the wood embers of low burning hearth surround him.

He turns and sees you.

Jing Yuan recognizes your face from the Sky Faring Commission’s roster, but can’t put a name to it. He does not know you which makes all of this more comical.

(You are not anyone to him, not yet.)

You are, however, quite cute. Jing Yuan finds himself a bit distracted and charmed by the shape of your lips, the wideness of your eyes. You stand, poised with an arm offered to him, wearing a look of abject horror.

The scents behind him begin to sour. This is… not just bold, but stupid. Judging by your expression and such casual language, the lackadaisical offering of your crooked arm was not intended for him. There’s a flush on your cheeks and a haze in your gaze; he assumes you’re as drunk as the rest of the party.

Jing Yuan smiles.

“I suppose it is about time I turn in for the evening.” He rises with a stretch and a yawn that’s at least half legitimate. “How kind of you to offer me a hand.”

You stall for a moment, visibly mentally stumbling as you stare up at him, scent sweetening, “I’m so sorry—“

”What’s there to be sorry about?” It’s a bit cruel to speak to you like this, he knows. All eyes of the party are on the two of you and this blunder, and Jing Yuan causing more mischief is not in great form. “I am happy to have an escort home. Shall we?”

He links his arm with your own.

The veranda is left behind, more than one of the Charioteers (and your companions?) squawking at you as you depart. You stay tense near his side until the sounds of the party fade into the night. When Jing Yuan sneaks glances at your face, you have the look of someone who swallowed something bitter and rotten. Your scent remains sharp, tart on the back of his tongue, even as you near quiet neighborhoods and his estate.

He stops you outside the gate and plies you with a sweet smile.

You immediately bow, bent fully at the waist, “G-General, I apologize— deeply apologize— I mistook you for someone else and h-have made quite the fool of myself. I apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused.”

”None of that now, please. You’ve not been an inconvenience in the slightest. If anything, I should be thanking you as your interference allowed me to escape that party a few hours earlier than I was expected to be there for.”

”… I-I—“ You raise yourself up as Jing Yuan tilts his head down to you. Even at your full height, he’s still quite a bit taller than you. Wider in the shoulders and with a more honed, straight-spined posture. By comparison, you almost cower, hunched a bit as you look up at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “If you’re certain, General. I never meant to cause any trouble.”

”You did not cause any trouble— at least not for me. Though, I may suggest limiting your plum wine consumption when around your superiors.” He says with a cheeky smile.

There’s an indignant, watery look your eyes take on. You shift on your feet, and your scent ripens like summer fruit (an omega, clearly. Jing Yuan suspected as much.) The attention he gives you, though paltry, has you preening.

“I-I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, General. Thank you for being understanding, and I swear it won’t happen again.”

“I’m sure.” Jing Yuan chuckles. Given how you’re swaying on your feet, the hangover you’re sure to have the following morning will perhaps keep you from over-indulging for a while. “Would you like an escort home? It’s quite late.”

“General, t-that defeats the purpose of me walking you here, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps, but this was an accident, wasn’t it?” He hums. “Though I am grateful for a late-night companion, it wasn’t a necessary measure. You, however, may benefit more directly from a guide this evening?”

“No need, General.” You shake your head. Your scent goes bitter, just barely, the scent mingling with the blooming flowers of his garden just beyond the gate. “T-Though I am grateful for your kind offer, I’ll be fine getting home on my own.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t like your answer.

(It seems like a poor idea. A young omega, not wearing any scent patches or protective clothing, wandering in the night while a glass or two too deep in their cups. It feels foolish to let you go off alone.)

“Are you certain?” Jing Yuan implores you.

“More than.”

Your smile is transparently pathetic.

You walk away that night. You leave Jing Yuan outside the gate of his estate with only the wisps of your scent left, clinging to the well-trimmed bushes and vines that crawl the stone and metal walls of his estate. Jing Yuan swears he carries the smell of you with him that night as he enters the manor and readies for bed. As he flips through a book of poetry by candlelight, he feels almost certain your scent has come along with him. It rolls into his nest.

It is the first way you linger with him.

— 💦. ݁₊⋆❀˖°🎀°˖❀⋆ ݁₊.💦 —

There is much planning to be done following your trip to the Alchemy Commission and the revelations that come with it.

Jing Yuan handles most of it. At the behest of his own gentle pressing, you allow him to do so. Despite the various supplements and tinctures you are given by Lei Huiling to control your current symptoms, you are still not in the greatest health. You maintain a low-grade fever and stay fatigued in the days that follow your visit. Keeping you rested (and preferably not stressed) for your impending heat is vital.

Jing Yuan sorts through the necessary clerical work. A few weeks of time off is secured for both of you. It is to be a ‘shared sabbatical’ on paper. He knows that this will only further the rumors that you are his taken mate, but he doesn’t exactly... mind that. The rumor mill has already been thoroughly fed and stirred with how often you two have been seen in public together lately. Jing Yuan thinks that you have been too out of it to notice the attention, more often than not. And when you do—

(You cling to him a bit more when you do notice many eyes on you. You find comfort in him so explicitly—)

Jing Yuan certainly won’t do anything to dissuade public opinion, not unless it becomes necessary. It’s something to mull over.

Fu Xuan gives him an earful about ‘taking good care of you’ and to call her if you need an ‘alpha of virtue and good standing’. Jing Yuan knows that won’t be needed, but teases the Master Diviner about her chivalry regardless. As thanks for her generous offer and penance for his impish behavior, he bestows on her the mantle of Acting Arbiter General in his absence. Fu Xuan seems plenty satisfied with this.

Yukong is agreeable and seems... quite pleased with the recent developments of your coupling. Her tail swishes happily as Jing Yuan relays to her via hologram that you will be out for a not-insignificant length of time for medical reasons. She congratulates him and then chides him in the next breath.

(“I better see you court them properly following this, General. If I catch them sporting any claim without a matching couple’s charm on your wrists’, you will be receiving the scolding of a lifetime.”)

Jing Yuan takes her threat seriously and writes himself a note to secure the necessary colored threads and blown glass beads to construct the courting bracelets. It may be a good post-heat activity to do together, he thinks initially. However, perhaps, he would prefer to keep your bracelet design from you until it is completed and it can be gifted to you properly. There’s a fair amount of decorum in courting that Jing Yuan has forgone, somewhat tactlessly, up until this point. It would do you both well for him to recall some of it and, as Yukong suggested, court you once this heat has passed.

(Jing Yuan likes the sound of it so, so much. Even if his own courting instincts are under-used and unearthed these days.)

In the meantime, Jing Yuan takes care to assist you in preparing for it.

The markets are abuzz when he returns several days in a row, purchasing and pocketing little bags of sweets and dried fruit. A few hard cheeses and seed mixes as well. Anything that he can find that he thinks you may enjoy and is easy to eat during the lulls of it. He takes a trip or two to the compounder in the Alchemy Commission to fetch the litany of medications and supplements Lei Huiling had prescribed. Each vial and bottle is labeled clearly with dosages, penned in his own hand.

Jing Yuan prepares a number of blankets, bed linens, and clothes for your nest as well. His own nest becomes overstuffed with them, but he hardly minds. He takes great care each evening to remove his usual adhesive scent-blocking patches and scrub the area free of any potentially sticky residue. It’s a diligence he rarely carries for the activity of washing that area, as it hasn’t been particularly relevant that his scent be so easy to spread. Now he finds himself washing and rinsing the skin at least twice. He massages the glands on his neck as well; Baiheng always had said that scent releases easier than way.

Jing Yuan’s nest has never smelt so much like… himself. The petrichor and charged air wrap around each linen, with the sweetness of honeysuckle just a touch behind it. Omega’s scents tend to be sweeter or spiced. Jing Yuan hadn’t fully realized that his leaned toward the former. Sleeping each night in a proper, scented nest of his own does feel lovely. Indulgent, even though Jing Yuan has a suspicion that this will become routine in time. He doesn’t mind procuring the wealth of blankets and pillows smothered with his scent, and equally wouldn’t mind having some drenched in your scent as well.

You have admitted that you are having trouble getting your own nest together, but Jing Yuan hopes that his offerings make it a bit easier. He thinks that they do. Your scent always brightens and goes gooey on the sides of his palette whenever you receive a bundle from him at your door.

You have not yet let him enter your home.

It makes sense. If an alpha’s home is their den, an omega’s home in its entirety is something of a nest, even beyond the bedroom that it usually is made in. You had seemed woefully uncomfortable when Lei Huiling had pointed out your dysregulated nesting behaviors. It can only be interpreted as something akin to shame to Jing Yuan. He knows you are preparing in your own ways, readying your space for someone to share it with you.

You tell him, explicitly, that you will handle the procurement of any necessary toys or lube. You say so with hot cheeks and can’t meet his eyes (even though you’ve shared a bed once before and he has had his tongue in your cunt. He finds the display endearing.) You also tell him that your little home, tucked away in a pleasant corner of the Luofu’s northern floral district, is also outfitted with scent locks on the doors and windows, so there shouldn’t be any leaking of heat smell.

Dutifully, you meet each day during lunch. You take the tapered dose of your suppressants and a regulating tincture with a full glass of water that Jing Yuan helps you drink (you do not need his help, but you like it. Jing Yuan likes giving it to you.) Your plate is always clean by the end of your lunches, though sometimes it takes an hour or two for you to get through the meal. Your appetite waxes and wanes.

By the time you reach your final, smallest dose of your suppressants, you can hardly make yourself eat. You look at Jing Yuan warily after swallowing down the pills, mincing and shifting on your knees beneath the latticed gazebo of the favored garden. Wisteria drips from frames nearby, casting petal-shaped shadows.

“I’m nervous, Jing Yuan,” You tell him softly. “Really nervous.”

“I know,” he tells you. He has known since the day you left the Alchemy Commission with a parcel of medicine. Your scent hasn’t lost its sour edge, never entirely. “Does it reassure you, knowing that I’ll be there?”

“... I think it scares me a little more, knowing that.” You swallow.

Jing Yuan tilts his head inquisitively and brushes hair away from your face. He leans down close, so your breath mingles, your scent in his mouth. The flavor and taste of it provide him such a wealth of information. You know this; it disarms you. You have nothing you can hide from him, just as he most enjoys.

“Will you tell me more? I intend to help ease your heat for you, not make it more stressful than it already is.”

“… Will you think less of me if I tell you?”

“No, not at all.” He assures you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You shiver with it and nod.

“I’ve... never shared a heat— my own heat before,” you confess and squeeze the hand of his that you hold. He assumed as much. “Never with an alpha, omega, or beta. I’ve always spent them alone with minimal relief. I’m not sure what it will be like to be so out of my mind and around another person. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I speak or act out of turn while I can’t make sense of anything other than... heat.”

Jing Yuan hums thoughtfully, “Do you remember how I acted, during my heat?”

“Of course.”

“And how was I?”

“... You were lovely, as you are now.”

“Thank you,” he steals a proper kiss from you and pulls away without allowing you to chase him. “Did you scorn me then, for not being fully lucid? Wouldn’t that have been cruel?”

You stumble mentally. Jing Yuan watches it in your eyes.

“I-I mean, I didn’t. Of course not. And yes, it would be cruel.” You frown at him. “But, I think mine are worse than that, Jing Yuan. I’m in pain more often than not, rather than aroused. Half of the time, I end up on the bathroom floor because I get so nauseous. And even if I don’t get so sick, and I am, um, yearning, let’s say— I’m not very experienced, even outside of my heat cycle. I’m very grateful for your help, but what if it’s all just... too much in the moment?”

Jing Yuan lets you finish before kissing you.

This kiss is slow, deep, and reverent. Consuming. He means it to be, he needs you to feel it. Words rarely fail him, but this is part of his strategy, to coax you into feeling and breathlessness in tandem with sweet words. You mewl beneath his touch when his tongue darts out to taste your lips.

He pulls away with a heavy breath.

“You are not too much,” Jing Yuan reminds you. “I am very capable of handling you, in whatever state that is, especially during your heat. Whether that is sickness or ‘yearning’, I will be there to ease you. I cannot offer you a knot, or the solace that comes with that type of coupling, but I will be there in all other ways.”

“... What if you get overwhelmed?”

“We will deal with that if such a thing occurs.”

“Okay.” You sniffle and concede, burying your face in his unmasked scent glands.

He hoists you closer and pets you. Contact like this has become commonplace over the past few weeks. It soothes both of you, calms the fractious omega in you, and the antsy, overbearing omega in him. It drenches you in each other’s scent.

“Dear?” He asks once you’ve calmed in his arms. “May I clarify a few things?”

“Mhm,” you pull away just enough to look at him in the eyes and cup his face in your two soft hands.

Jing Yuan already knows the answers to the questions he is poised to ask you. However, you need to know he knows. He needs to soothe the frayed nerves that will surely follow.

“You noted your own inexperience earlier, and that you’ve never shared a heat. Have you ever laid with anyone, heat-addled or otherwise?”

There’s a pause. You tense up, flushing and struggling to meet his gaze, “I-I haven’t— not other than you, during your heat.”

Something in him cracks, unfurls, and wants more of him. He feels glutinous.

“I am your first?”

“... Yes.”

“... When I touched you during my heat, were those your first times being intimate in those ways?”

“Y-Yeah, I hadn’t g-gone that far before.”

“I see.” Jing Yuan cannot help the coy smile that breaks over his face. You look ready to combust. “I’m honored to be your first. I’ll be sure to take good care of you, hm? As you deserve.”

You nod up and down, looking like you’re ready to squirm out of your skin, “... ‘Honored’? It doesn’t bother you?”

“Not in the slightest.” Actually, he’s elated. Ecstatic. He had a hunch, but he wasn’t entirely certain. The confirmation has his belly swooping, heating. He grins. “I will get to deflower my omega. I can imagine no greater privilege.”

His slip of the tongue is somewhat intentional. Maybe a little devilish, depending on your reaction.

‘My omega’.

It may be a step too far— in which case, he can do damage contro. Perhaps not backpedal, but clarify. However— that becomes clearly unnecessary as your gaze darkens. Your pupils widen. And for the first time since that awful day in his garden, your scent is fully sweet.

“‘My’ omega?” you say, softly, like if you speak too loudly the phrase and its meaning will disintegrate. “Your omega, Jing Yuan? Be sage with your words, please.”

He is being, perhaps, a little bit less sage than he should be. But he is being honest. And his honesty is something he covets giving to you.

“I am being truthful.” He nudges your cheek with his nose. “My omega, if you wish to be.”

Your expression shatters, revealing something that is only his to see. With scent blooming like honey and hearth fire, your eyes go wide, your lips tremble. It’s sweet, innocent even. Your gaze is so tender, it soothes something in his chest that he’s just beginning to name. He wants to hold you to his chest and keep you there. It’s hard to understand. But he wants you to be his.

You swallow, slow and audible.

“Only if you’re mine too.”

Oh, by Lan, he wants to be.

(And Jing Yuan hasn’t wanted to be anyone’s in so long.)

(His energy and vigor have belonged to the Luofu, so nothing like the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae or the events surrounding the dissolution of the High Cloud Quintet ever happens again or, if something so disastrous were to occur again, that it would not be so deeply mishandled. It’s paramount. He has a beloved apprentice to look after. He has the gardens he tends and his birds to feed, but there is a distance with all of it. It is parts of him doled out, not his whole. Jing Yuan has not been whole since he saw Yingxing’s eyes carved with Shuhu’s insignia and Dan Feng mutilated into a man that couldn’t be called wholly different or the same.)

And yet—

He wants to sink his teeth into your neck. Over your pulsing, inflamed, undertended scent gland. He wants you to bite him until he bleeds, so everyone knows that the Divine Foresight has someone to hold again, however potentially fleeting.

“I am yours,” he answers. The unhindered, airy quality of his own voice throws him off. He relishes it as yet another new thing that you’ve brought out in him to be shared.

You brighten and launch forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders so tightly. His arms find their way around your waist, squeezing in time with your sweetened laugh. The sound (that could make flowers bloom and dough rise) soothes the thing in him that is wanting. You kiss him like the sky kisses the sun at noontime. He bring you closer still, trying to sink in your skin.

Jing Yuan, for all of the preparations needed for your heat, is unafraid of its difficulties. You are his, and Jing Yuan must get you in a comfortable nest and assure that you are cared for. Your heat will boil over any day now, it’s only a matter of time.

And Jing Yuan is excited.

...

Your pre-heat symptoms rise on a thankfully brisk morning. Jing Yuan receives a text from you just as he awakens in his own nest:

[you]: could you come over? my fever is back.

Jing Yuan doesn’t bother responding; he hits the ‘call’ symbol next to your name on his jade abacus. Shifting upwards, the white linen covers he’d been under slides down, falling around his waist.

You pick up on the second ring. “Jing Yuan?”

”Hello,” he speaks warmly. “How are you feeling?”

”I’m okay. S-starting to feel kinda gross.” He can hear the grimace in your voice. You thump around on the other side of the call. “I-I think I have everything ready though. As ready as it can be. If y-you’d like to come over, you can.“

”I’ll be there as soon as I round up a few things myself.” He tells you. “Is there anything last minute that you would like me to fetch?”

”I-I can’t think of anything— I need to check my lists though.” There is more thudding through the speaker. “I—I— can I text you?”

Your bumbling is hopelessly endearing. Jing Yuan smiles, “Of course. I will see you soon regardless, hm?”

”Yeah, I‘ll see you then. And Jing Yuan?” you say. “T-thank you, so much.”

The warmth of your words fills his chest. His own scent blooms, soaking into his nest and the walls of his bedroom. He wants to hold you so, so badly.

”Of course.” His tone sounds rich in his own ears even as the call disconnects from your end.

…

It only takes Jing Yuan an hour or so to finish his own final preparations. The necessary bags are packed and hooked on his elbows as he makes his way toward the flower district. It’s early enough that there is little foot traffic to ogle the Divine Foresight playing pack mule, which he is grateful for. It would be an unwelcome distraction.

His fixation is on you.

Jing Yuan makes a single stop on the way (having not received any messages from you in the interim) to grab a box of treats that he thinks you will enjoy. He balances it in his hand, flat on his palm, and unlatches the little metal gate to your front yard.

Though Jing Yuan hasn’t been inside of your home, he has been outside of it several times during the past few weeks. Jing Yuan has dropped off a number of items for you to keep in advance of your heat— scented items, and his own clothes and toiletries that he would be remiss to not have during the throes of your heat but will more than likely forget the day of.

He’s glad he has had the foresight to be intensely... intentional about your heat.

It has steadied you, he knows. The days where you’ve simply sat, side-by-side or with you tucked into his lap, seem to soothe you more than any of the Alchemy Commission’s prescriptions have been able to. He knows you appreciate the space that those moments provide. He figured it would, and built the time to see you in that way into his schedule because he had a hunch that slowness was what you needed most (in opposition to the burn and speed that a heat necessitates.)

He’s been careful with you. Not that he’s treading too carefully around you, but he does treat you gingerly. Careful touches that he has learned that you don’t mind (a hand on your waist, his lips on your cheek), encouraging you to take the same from him if that’s what you wish. He always asks before initiating any further intimacy. Despite the fact that you’ve shared a bed and will do so again, he knows this helps you feel safer about the exchange.

It helps him too, really.

Heats, by their nature, tend to feel out of control. Even if one is medicated and informed and knowledgeable, they can still be so unpredictable. The phenomenon of heat cycles is, of course, something produced by biology and therefore affected by any number of other factors beyond the physical. Jing Yuan still isn’t sure what caused his own heat to trigger early. The lack of control doesn’t truly bother Jing Yuan— one cannot control everything even if they keep it within their gaze after all — however, the care and intentionality steadies him just as well.

From the way you’ve described your previous heats, they have always been chaotic things and painful to endure. Doing what he can to ease that, especially ahead of time, calms something in him.

He knocks on your door only once before you open it. His heart aches when he sees you.

You’re already sweating (poor, poor thing), pupils half-dilated despite the golden morning sun slanting toward you. Your scent curls around him, sweet more than sour, warm more than acidic, but something unpleasant wading underneath. He softens and smiles.

“Hello,” he says to you. You haven’t spoken yet, only blink at him owlishly.

“Hi,” you reply softly back. Cutely, you mince in place. “... Would you like to come in?”

“I would be very happy to.”

It’s the invitation Jing Yuan had been waiting for, truthfully. He doesn't want to crowd you, not now, not when things can progress at whatever pace you’re most comfortable with, safely.

(That may change. Jing Yuan has prepared for that and shall use his hand and force if necessary. Tenderly. For your own good.)

Jing Yuan follows you inside your little home and takes it in as you futz with a small, glowing panel mounted next to the door. A scent locking system; it’s one of the pricey ones based on the glance he takes at the interface. You tap around on it a few times and Jing Yuan watches.

“Dear?” he asks.

You startle and jump a few inches off the floor, hand on your chest, and turn back to him, “Uh-huh?”

“No need to be nervous,” he says gently. “I understand why, but there’s no need to hold onto those feelings. Would you be able to show me how to operate your scentlocking system? In case I need to.”

“Oh— okay. Yes. I can.” You shake your head from side to side.

Jing Yuan grabs your hand as you poke around the panel, “I-It’s really simple. This screen lets you lock individual windows and doors— I-I have a courtyard in the back that has a sliding door that needs to be locked too. This other screen—” you tap around more, the interface follows. “Lets you lock and unlock all of them at once. There’s also this button which will let you vent scent if it— it gets to be too much. I-I have a remote for it near my nest t-too.”

“That’s good to know.” It’s a useful feature. An expensive one. Briefly, Jing Yuan wonders how you can afford it with your salary at the Sky Faring Commission. “Though I don’t believe it will be necessary, it’s nice to know that the option is there.”

“It’s... nice to have, I suppose.” Your hand falls from the interface. There’s a trace of something festering and sad on your face, but you shake it off and tap your clammy cheeks. “S-sorry about that, I f-feel so weird about everything. Like I’m two seconds away from crying at all times. It’s awful.”

“Heats can be overwhelming.” Jing Yuan reaches for your hand and squeezes.

You squeeze back and nod, a bit solemn. “... Can I show you what I’ve prepared, and maybe, my nest?”

Jing Yuan can’t help but light up at the suggestion, nodding with a little more vigor than he expected himself to. “Absolutely. I’d love to see.”

You give him a proper tour, starting in your small foyer, and then to the living room. There’s a plush-looking, rounded chaise lounge in the corner piled with a few blankets that Jing Yuan recognizes. A round pillow rests among them, embroidered with a content-looking cat face. A basket sits on the ground next to it, stocked with a number of snacks, drinks, and adhesive heat pads among others.

Your kitchen is well-stocked too. At least a week's worth of meals and snacks are already prepared and packaged up in neat boxes, stacked in your fridge. This was Jing Yuan’s doing, mostly. There are services for this type of food preparation, specifically for heats and ruts. It was easy for him to place a quick, albeit indulgent order. Despite the abundance of sealed meal boxes, he can catch a glimpse of a few irregularly-shaped containers that must be filled with your own cooking.

You’ve always taken comfort in the familiar and your little treats. It’s endearing you’ve made an effort to have some personally prepared for the two of you as well.

The courtyard you mentioned is small. There’s enough room for a few petite garden boxes, one growing clusters of herbs and another with lush wind violets and poppies. Otherwise, there is only a low table and two sitting cushions. A gurgle trills in the distance, rushing water from one of the freshwater aqueducts that line this section of Luofu neighborhoods.

You quickly enter back inside, and dash to re-enable the scent locks. It’s a bit hard to watch. Your anxiety is palpable, in the way you move and regard him. There’s a tremor in your hands and in your tone as you sputter out a few nervous quips to him.

Jing Yuan would like to ease you; it’s his most central goal.

He slides behind you with a heavy sigh and wraps his arms around your waist. It’s a good fit, one that feels secure. You feel so lovely to him as he bumps your cheek with his nose.

“Dear,” he keeps his voice in a low purr. “May I kiss you?”

You swallow audibly and your stiffness drains out of you. Like a stopper has been uncorked and you sag against him.

“P-Please—”

And so, he does.

Turning you in his arms, he presses his lips to yours while cradling your jaw. Warm fingers stroke down your cheeks and trace the line of your jaw. Your hands, still shaking (poor thing), grip the fabric of his shirt with enough force to drag him closer.

It’s good. It’s sating. The sensation of closeness like this is something you both need, even if you’re still learning the steps of how to seek it with each other. The contact you’ve shared in the weeks leading up to your heat has been mostly chaste, meant to comfort more than to arouse, and it has served its purpose well. Physicality has gotten easier for you in some ways, he knows. He feels it in the way you stretch on your tiptoes to be closer to him and let out a soft sound against his lips with hardly any hesitation.

Jing Yuan relishes it.

Sliding his fingers down your cheeks, tracing your jaw, he kisses you in a way that denotes hunger but doesn’t entirely satiate. It’s a morsel of something larger, to be explored in pieces, lest you become overwhelmed and weathering your heat becomes even more unpleasant than you predict it will be. He pulls away and you gasp for a breath or two, tilting your forehead up to his with a whine.

“Jing Yuan—” It’s light and sweet, the way you speak. You steal another kiss and Jing Yuan laughs into it. His hands slide to the back of your neck and it’s only then that he feels your fever.

“Oh.” He presses his lips firmly into your forehead. You’re warm there too. Too warm. Poor thing. “Is it starting to hurt, dear?”

You preen under his attention but still look uncomfortable as he asks. You shift from foot to foot. “A-A little. Nothing too bad, but I know it’ll get worse.”

Certainly. He hums. “May we continue the tour, then? Afterward, we can focus on getting settled.”

You peek up at him shyly, “T-The last thing to see is my nest. D-do... you want to see it?”

“Of course, I would,” Jing Yuan assures you. “Would you show me?”

You nod, more enthusiastic and energetic than you have been in weeks. Clasping your hands together, you guide him past your living room and a half bathroom, to a door that he knows must be for your bedroom.

“Give me a moment.” You squeeze his hands. “I-I just want to make sure things are p-perfect.”

He squeezes yours back. Of course.

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here.”

A look of relief passes over you before you dart inside your bedroom and gently shut the door behind you. There’s an immediate rustling and assorted thumping, which Jing Yuan can’t help but chuckle at. He knows the feeling, and he’s certain that you have probably been futzing with your nest almost constantly.

(A satisfactory nest is a very important thing to show a mate, after all.)

And even if Jing Yuan isn’t an alpha, and he cannot give you any of the things that an alpha would expressly be able to provide during a heat, your instincts will tell you to complete some of the same gestures. Showing him your nest, how well-prepared you are. Jing Yuan has no doubt that you’ll be rolling over to show him your soft belly once you are more comfortable and settled with his presence.

“Okay.” You stick your head out from the crack in the doorway. “I-It’s ready. Come see?”

You offer him your outstretched palm. His heart flutters as he takes it.

Your bedroom is... somewhat unexpected. Jing Yuan is not entirely certain what he expected from the space, something cozy, something homey, but there’s such a level of detail and diligence that Jing Yuan is surprised you managed the space all on your own.

(It makes his heart hurt, thinking of you like that.)

The windows are covered by thick-looking curtains, made lighter by a sheer inner curtain that hangs secondarily. They keep all the sun out of the space. Your bedroom seems intentionally low-lit, the only lighting sources being a few lamps and a strand of string lights around the corners of the room. A round, friendly-looking lamp sits on a bedside table, oscillating several colors in a slow, steady rhythm. A vanity is tucked in a corner, though its contents seem to be entirely packed away. The little bench that accompanies it is stacked with blankets, all in a well-folded pile.

Your nest itself is resplendent.

Your mattress is large— almost as big as his is, which he hadn’t expected. It’s piled with familiar-looking blankets and articles of clothing. There’s a central point to the nest, where pillows are stacked behind for comfortable lounging. A few doughy-looking plushies have made their home in your nest as well. One looks like a round, sugar-white cat. He recognizes it as a plushie made in his own likeness— like they sell in the markets. He can’t help but think it is overwhelmingly sweet for you to not only have one, but keep it in your nest.

At the end of your nest and bed is a chest, covered in a plush fabric. It looks soft to the touch. On the bedside table, you have stocked a basket with little snacks, electrolyte drinks, various medicines, lube— anything one could need for a heat.

You stand beside your nest, practically shaking as you bounce on your toes. You wring your hands as you watch him take in your space, little by little.

Jing Yuan takes ample time, examining your space, but not entering any further than the doorframe. He would not want to slight you or make you uncomfortable in a space that is so truly and deeply your own.

“S-So?” You ask softly, kicking the ground. Your house slippers have little cat paw patterns on the tips of the toes. “What do you think?”

Jing Yuan sighs your name with a smile that radiates all the way from the base of his spine, his sternum— somewhere deep and true and real. Your scent is so thick here, so intensely you. It’s not mixed with anything other than clean linen and the herbal soap you must use in the shower. It’s nearly pure. It’s indulgent for him to open his mouth and take your scent into the back of his throat.

He can only regard you with warmth, “It is a very lovely nest. You have done so well.”

You soften instantly. If you were capable of turning into a warm puddle, you probably would’ve. Jing Yuan can’t help but preen; he knows how to pick and choose his words well. It is one of his greatest skills.

Relief looks sweet on you as you all but collapse in the side of your nest, face first.

“Thank you,” you whine, muffled into the linens. “I tried very hard.”

“And it shows.” Jing Yuan barely restrains himself from bouncing on his toes. It’s so cute. You’re so cute. He needs you in his mouth. He holds himself back. These things must proceed gingerly, even now.

You whine once more. Your legs kick up and you cross your ankles. “You’re going to kill me, Jing Yuan.”

He gasps, something fake and theatrical. “I could never do such a thing,”

It feels like a part of him is shedding. It’s welcome.

Sweetly, you turn your face to look at him. You do look awful— really. It will only worsen from here, and Jing Yuan has every intention of tending to you properly.

“May I join you?” he asks.

You tense. Jing Yuan does not move.

Nests are the most intimate, vulnerable place for an omega. They are deeply personal spaces and are meant to be safe. Always safe. And Jing Yuan has put together, over the months and weeks of growing closer to you, that this type of closeness and space-sharing in your own nest is difficult.

As quickly as you entered his nest for his heat previously, you don’t share that enthusiasm about Jing Yuan entering your own.

He expected this much. It only stings a little. Not enough to bruise.

It takes you a few moments of inner turmoil before you truly look at him again. Soft and sad in your eyes. You bunch the linens of your nest in your fists and haul yourself up enough to sit. Tentatively, you pat the spot next to you.

“You may.”

Jing Yuan is so, so careful when he sits next to you. He moves slowly, keeping his posture softened. Your scent, under the heat-sick, swirls with anxiety and want in equal parts. It’s reassuring as much as it worries him.

You take one of his hands and bring it to your face. Gently, reverently, you hold his wrist to your jaw and scent him. Jing Yuan helps you a moment later, twisting the appendage so his scent is smeared on you.

“Thank you,” says Jing Yuan.

You scoot closer to him, wrapping yourself around his bicep. “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

It’s enough. Something has cracked and Jing Yuan can’t help but indulge it as you both descend into the soft expanse of your nest. Your scent overtakes him, and Jing Yuan breathes it in through his mouth.

...

Several things require discussion before you lose your complete lucidity. One of which is sex.

This has been talked about before. Several times over the last few weeks, but you and Jing Yuan came to the conclusion to speak again on the day your proper pre-heat began in order to have both of your most current thoughts on the matter. As much as you’ve shared with him in the past (that you haven’t shared your heat before, that you are not at all experienced with sex, that you have specific preferences that, at the time you shared this, were too embarrassed to disclose to him, regardless of the privacy of Jing Yuan’s garden.)

You are clearly more open now. You lay between his legs, a hand intertwined with his.

“Can I show you my t-toys?”

“Of course, I’d like that very much.”

Jing Yuan won’t deny that he’s been curious about the more specific flavors of your preferences.

You shuffle on your knees to the end of the bed, leaning over the edge of your nest, to the chest below. Hastily, you place several silken sacks on the bed.

Jing Yuan shuffles along with you to examine them.

It’s not a large collection, notably. In the number of toys or the size of any of them. It’s maybe three dildos, a singular (albeit sturdy-looking) wand vibrator, and a set of pressure cuffs for the wrists and ankles, meant to stimulate your scent glands with friction. The box for those clearly hasn’t been opened. Overall, all of the collection looks fairly new.

Jing Yuan cradles one of the phallus-shaped toys in his hands. It's similar to the others in your collection— not huge, but not small either. And notably—

It isn’t knotted.

None of your toys are.

This concerns Jing Yuan instantly, though he doesn’t voice it overly.

Craving a knot is one of the most expected desires to manifest during a heat. Among nesting urges, cravings for safety, and safe company is the explicit want to be full. Stretched. The pop of an alpha’s knot into an omega’s hole during heat is a unique, singular type of ecstasy that most omegas deeply enjoy. A toy doesn’t produce quite the same intensity of sensation (it lacks body heat, blood, and the all-important personal, intimate connection, after all—), but it’s still sating enough. Enjoyable, in Jing Yuan’s experience, and certainly better than nothing.

Heats without knots are incredibly difficult to bear.

It’s already been established that your heats are difficult; Jing Yuan wonders if the lack of knotting toys is a cause of your difficult heats, or a symptom of them. It seems vital to surmise this in your case.

“Dear?” he asks, gentle and easy. “I’d like to change into something more comfortable. Is that alright with you?”

You nod, “O-Of course. I put your things in one of my drawers.”

You tell him this so easily like you don’t know how it makes his heart flutter so wildly.

True to your word, the clothes he has been stockpiling are folded neatly in the top drawer of your dresser. Jing Yuan pulls out some soft, breathable lounge clothes and a favored robe of his and sets them aside.

You clear your throat. “You can change here, if you want.”

“Hm?” Jing Yuan is surprised by your willingness. “How forward.”

“I-It’s not like I haven’t seen you bare before. I’ll be seeing you that way again soon.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to force yourself into sharing space when you’re not ready to,” Jing Yuan reminds you.

“I know that.” The bed creaks as you adjust within your nest. “What if I want to see you bare?”

“You do?” Jing Yuan makes himself sound a bit more incredulous than he actually feels. Exclusively to make you squirm. He indulges, just a little. As a treat.

“I— of course I do!” you exclaim. “A-and not just because I’m starting to feel my pre-heat. I t-think you’re very pretty, Jing Yuan.”

Jing Yuan has been called many things, over his centuries. Handsome, attractive, beautiful, gorgeous, stunning— but so rarely pretty. It implies things that don’t match his stature. He’s always been tall, especially for an omega. Broad, with muscles built from Jingliu’s rigorous training (even if these days, they are buried under a layer of soft, peacetime pudge that Jing Yuan finds himself very comfortable having). His skin bears the scars of a thousand battles, and nearly as many wars. His voice has always been deeper, more gravel than ichor.

Yet, you call him pretty. And tend to call him pretty, or beautiful, or all manner of compliments that imply him to be softer and more dainty than he, to his own eyes, is.

He finds it endlessly charming. Attractive of you, to view him in such a way and express it to him.

Jing Yuan can’t help but smile as he begins to pull away his everyday garments. “How sweet of you. I’m flattered.”

“It’s the truth,” you tell him with a whine.

It’s true, at least to you. He can feel your eyes boring holes into his back as he strips, trading his cloak and lion-headed pauldron for soft, nearly sheer loungewear. They match yours fairly well, in both weight and color. Though yours are soaked through, and already smell of sweat. Jing Yuan imagines you slept in them.

“Would you like to change as well?” He asks.

“... It’s not necessary—”

“What is necessary and what you would like do not need to be mutually exclusive,” Jing Yuan reminds you. You’ve discussed this previously, how your comfort and wants are paramount, as is communicating them effectively. “I will ask again, would you like to change?”

“I would— but,” you frown at Jing Yuan as he sits back into your nest again, pulling you into his lap without a second thought, “they’ll just get dirty again, really quick. I don’t know if it’s better than just toughing it out.”

“I don’t think toughing it out is worth it,” Jing Yuan says. “I’m sure, if necessary, a load or two of laundry can be done during your heat.”

“... I guess, yeah.” You sound more assured. You stretch to press a kiss to his jaw. Jing Yuan purrs with the contact, giving you a squeeze.

You let Jing Yuan pick out your outfit.

He does not have to cajole you to allow him this specific display of trust. Jing Yuan simply asks you and you nod, quietly eager in how you direct him to the specific drawer you keep your softest, comfiest house clothes in. The outfit he chooses is complimentary in color to his own, though the fabric is somehow softer than his. More worn, more loved. Older, surely. Something you’ve had for a long time. It’s, perhaps, not the prettiest or most chic set, but he imagines that it must be a favorite of yours.

With a little plying, you settle back into your nest, with Jing Yuan between your legs on his knees. He plays with the bottom hem of your shirt. Your skin is so hot where it brushes against his fingers. Pre-heat is descending on you quickly.

You keen below him, as to remind him.

“I have a few questions for you,” he asks. “Are you amicable to that?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod, running your tongue over your rapidly chapping lips. He imagines that you don’t have much true lucidity left. It’s best to take advantage of it while you still can. “I have some for you too.”

“Oh?”

“You start though.” Your words slur as you reach forward to squeeze his wrist, over the scent gland there. So tender with him.

“Alright.” Jing Yuan smiles, something sharp and cat-like. “Would you like me to fuck you?”

You freeze.

“... W-What?” Your cheeks grow hotter, eyes wide. It’s so damn cute.

“During your heat. Would you like me to fuck you?”

“L-Like— With the toys, right? That was the p-plan?”

“Not exactly.” He hums. He runs his fingertips just under your top in soothing little circles. “I meant myself, with my own anatomy.”

“Fucking me with your—”

“My cock, yes.” He laughs lightly. Your embarrassment is rich, and he is... perhaps being a little mean to present an earnest question in such a way. He is indulging, just a bit. He doesn’t think you mind as you cover your face and peek at him from between his fingers.

“I— I mean— Do you want to?” you squeak. “I f-figured that you wouldn’t be interested in that type of s-sex.”

“That’s a fair assumption to make.” He muses. Male omegas, in his experience, do tend to prefer being penetrated, rather than doing the penetrating themselves. This is the most common perception as well. “However, I would like to fuck you. If that’s not something you would enjoy, that is alright as well. I wanted to ensure that I offered it as an option to you.”

You stare at him.

“You... want to fuck me?”

“Badly, yes.”

“... Maybe this is rude but— Jing Yuan, have you f-fucked someone like that before?”

He has. Several times, though it has been a while. Though Yingxing had no proclivity or want to bottom, Dan Feng enjoyed it on occasion. Typically receiving from Jing Yuan, rather than Yingxing even. Yingxing had the sizable cock and fat knot of a virile alpha, and Dan Feng, as a Vidyadhara with no secondary gender, lacked the anatomy to take such girth easily or comfortably. Jing Yuan’s smaller, knotless, omegan cock was much more to Dan Feng’s preference.

Jing Yuan enjoyed the times they shared. It was a specific type of intimacy, different from being penetrated. There is, innately, some dynamic of power at play. Jing Yuan doesn’t mind being on the higher end of that if it’s you who he’d be with. After much thought, Jing Yuan thinks he’d like it very much.

“I have, though it has been quite some time. I may be out of practice, but I would very much like to.”

You stare at him. Really stare at him, before biting your lip. A sigh shakes from your chest.

“I... I would like that a lot, too. I-I think it would be really nice even.”

Jing Yuan feels the soft thing in his chest open its maw like it needs to eat you so lovingly. Hold you as he is now.

“I think it would be very nice as well.” Getting to fuck his Omega. He shudders at the thought, lewd as it is. It will be your first time experiencing penetration to his knowledge. He’ll make sure it is good for you, as you so deserve.

“I think so too.” Your scent goes spiced, warm, on the back of his tongue. Jing Yuan savors it.

“I cannot give you a knot.” He reminds you gently.

Jing Yuan knows you know this in your right mind. Even in pre-heat, you have the sense to know that he is an omega. The poking he’s doing now is mostly for his own benefit, something to approach delicately.

You stiffen below him, going tense in your shoulders. Jing Yuan expected this to some degree.

“That won’t be an issue.”

“Can you tell me more?”

“... Y-yeah, I can. I suppose it’s relevant.” You scrub a hand over your face. “I j-just don’t like knot. So, you not having one will be totally okay. Better, actually.”

“I thought as much,” he says gently, cupping your cheek with his hand. You lean into the touch. “I noticed that none of your toys have the ability to knot.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sure you know that will make your heat harder, right dear?”

“I-I know— I just—” You turn away from his hand. “I really don’t like it, or how it feels. Even during heat. I’m u-used to toughing them out without a knot, so it’ll be okay. Promise.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t believe you; he really, really doesn’t. There is more there that you aren’t saying. It feels cruel to pry in a moment so tender. He feels a bit guilty as he resolves to probe.

“As long as you are certain.” He says. “Can you tell me why you dislike it?”

You look at him warily.

He continues, “I want to know so I can help you the best I am able to while you’re in the worst of your heat. You don’t have to tell me, I would never make you. Though, I would be honored to know more about this preference of yours.”

“You’re— you’re so good at that.”

“At what?”

“Saying the right things. You’re too nice.”

“It’s easy to be kind to you.”

You whine and grab one of his hands, squeezing.

“I-I don’t like— how it feels to be stuck with something in me. Even with a toy, and n-not an actual alpha— I don’t like it. It feels bad. And it makes me so uncomfortable, I freak out most of the time. It’s not worth trying, especially during a heat.”

It makes something in him ache.

Jing Yuan dips down to hug you with his own squeeze.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and continue. “It feels worse to try and take a knot from a toy than it does to not have any knot at all. I’m used to it, so you don’t need to worry. I made sure all my toys don’t have a knot at all, so I can't get knotted by accident.”

“You are very diligent.”

“I have to be.”

You shouldn’t have to be. Even just speaking about this, Jing Yuan can tell it’s difficult. That it is tiring and painful to do, and yet you are. He appreciates it immensely, and the new insights you provide him are invaluable.

“Dear,” he says sweetly, pressing his lips to your forehead, and then sitting up once more, “Thank you for telling me.”

“O-of course.”

“It’s not so scary, telling me, is it?”

“N-no, it’s not. You’re not scary at all.”

He feels soothed. His fingers play with the seam of your lips, dipping just barely inside to chase the heat of your mouth.

“I’m very glad.” He withdraws his fingers and grabs the bottom hem of your shirt, returning to his original task. “May I?”

“Uh-huh. P-please.”

Good.

He peels your shirt off. It is, notably, sweat-soaked and a bit tacky to the touch. You’re bare underneath, your chest immediately spilling to the sides. You half-cover yourself superficially with your arms. It’s quite endearing, really.

He helps you slide on the new garment, this one with buttons in the front. He undoes each one reverently. You stay still and pliant under him. Your breathing evens out, and your scent is more warmly content than it has been in the entire last month. Your gaze is softened, gooey.

He says your name, honey-sweet on his tongue, “Do you trust me?”

“I do.” You say without hesitation.

Jing Yuan steels himself, coaxing his own scent into something more milky and kind.

“I may need to make calls of judgment during your heat while you’re not fully within yourself.” You’ve already spoken about this before, but he reiterates it now. As bluntly as he can manage, nursing the unbearably tender, soft, special thing that has begun to blossom between the two of you. “I will take good care of you, I swear.”

You look like you’re going to cry. “... Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Just— no knots.” You tell him once more. “And d-don’t be too far away for too long. It’ll make me sad.”

“Easily done.” Jing Yuan pauses. “Some of the decisions I may need to make may make you uncomfortable in the moment. I promise that I will only make these decisions if they’re entirely necessary.”

Your pleasure and comfort are the most important things, after all.

“I understand. I trust you, Jing Yuan.” And you kiss him.

It’s not chaste, this kiss. He can feel you shake as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning into and licking at his lips to taste him. The musk of your heat isn’t too overpowering yet; this is still you. Fully aware and present and wanting.

When you pull away, you look struck in the best way. Soft-jawed.

Jing Yuan can’t help but kiss you quickly a few more times. Over your nose and cheeks. You nearly shriek with laughter, and it makes something in his chest ache like a well-worked muscle. Satisfied and growing.

Jing Yuan pulls away, stroking over your face. “There is something I would like to ask of you.”

You blink at him. “O-Oh?”

Jing Yuan must choose his next words carefully, hovering his fingertips over the (still) inflamed scent glands at the hollow of your throat.

This is something that you haven’t discussed in all that much detail previously.

Your scent glands and their relatively consistent inflammation concern him.

Lei Huiling, during a few of the interim checkups that you had attended, commented on their poor state several times. It’s not normal for one's scent glands to be so flushed. You always seemed to brush this off.

However—

Jing Yuan would like to scent you properly. And you would, probably, like to scent him properly, which is very difficult to do with your scent glands puffed up and so painful.

”Would you be amicable to me massaging your scent glands?” He asks.

You still and frown.

”… Why?” You ask warily. “D-do I smell bad?”

”Not in the slightest.” To make you sure of this, Jing Yuan skillfully licks around your scent gland with a flat tongue.

Tasting you like this makes his head spin in the best way, but there’s still something acrid and unwell about your scent. You jolt in his arms and let out a cry.

“I’d like to be able to scent you properly during your heat, and in your current condition, that’s not possible without causing you pain.”

You swallow and frown more deeply. “Y-yeah, but massaging them would hurt really badly too.”

“Has anyone ever massaged your scent glands before?”

”N-No.”

That seems unlikely. Jing Yuan can’t help but press a bit. “Not even your mother or father?”

You grimace, your upper lip curling. “None. Never them, especially.”

(Interesting. You rarely mention your parents, but when you do it is always with a hint of disdain and bitterness. Something to prod at later, when there isn’t a more pertinent priority.)

Jing Yuan hums.

Truthfully, Jing Yuan’s own parents never showed him that type of specific care when he was a kit or cub. They were both betas, after all, and though they have their own scent glands and olfactory systems, betas don’t require the same type of tending that omegas and alphas do. They didn’t know what to do with Jing Yuan most of the time, especially after he presented.

He was very lucky that his Master and Baiheng so quickly took him under their wing in that way.

On more than one occasion, during or following a long campaign, Baiheng would need to press and massage out his stuffed-up scent glands. The common wisdom is that an excess of cortisol and adrenaline can cause them to become… clogged, for lack of a better word. Understimulation leads to festering inflammation. Baiheng always seemed to know when Jing Yuan would need a session of careful touch and would sit him in front of her lap, and roll out his scent glands one by one. Neck, wrists, and even inner thighs if his scent, by her nose, was sour enough to warrant it.

It did hurt, back then. It still does when Jing Yuan must massage his own out, though this is a rare occurrence these days.

As much as it hurts, the relief that follows is more than worth it. In this case, both immediately and in that you’ll be able to be scented properly. By him.

He can’t force this, he knows. But perhaps he will suggest heavily, lightly coerce. It is unlike him to be so heavy-handed but perhaps this issue warrants it.

(Truthfully— entirely truthfully, it has been bothering him for some time. You’re his omega, aren’t you? He can’t scent you fully, even if he wants to. Not without causing you enough pain to yelp or cry out, and it digs at something angry and soft that lives in his guts. It’s been something he has wanted— needed to address.)

His hands curl into fists, simmering.

“I’m sorry.” He kisses your forehead and lingers. “It will help. It will make this all easier.”

“B-But it will hurt.”

“It will. And then you will feel so much relief. It will be worth it.”

You don’t seem convinced as you huff out a sigh. “Everything already hurts enough— d-do I need to? I’ve been okay before.”

“You haven’t had a nestmate like this before,” he reminds you. “It hasn’t been problematic before, though no one has been attempting to scent you, don’t you think?”

You huff again but don’t reply. You bury your face in his neck with a grumble.

Jing Yuan doesn’t push, not for a moment or two. You stew in place.

“I guess.” You admit after a while with a sniffle.

It’s then that Jing Yuan has enough of an opening to maneuver you between his legs. In his lap where you so rightfully belong. His arms wrap around your middle and he hooks his chin over your shoulder.

Surrounded by your scent, even as off as it is, Jing Yuan still relishes burying himself in it.

“I know it is frightening.” He begins, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “And I know that you already are uncomfortable and in pain. I would not suggest putting you in a state of further discomfort if I didn’t think it would be to your benefit.”

“I k-know.” You sniffle once more and rub at your eyes.

“I will be gentle with you.” Jing Yuan speaks quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. Not even the finches and sparrows that teem in your courtyard bushes will catch his words. “I want to take care of you.”

(Please.)

That makes a sudden, strangled sound bubble up from you. Something between a sob and an unintelligible word. You lean back into him and nose at his jaw, the best scenting you are capable of doing.

“O-Okay,” you say into his skin, tasting the salt there. “Okay, okay, okay— y-you can. But, please be gentle. I— I know I need it but I know it’ll hurt and that’s so scary—”

He shushes you, plies you with sweet words and reassurances, and settles back into your bed further. Back against the headboard for stability, with you still braced over his chest. The soft garment he wears has fallen open over his chest and he can feel you seeking out his warmth there as you both settle and adjust into the best position.

Despite all of his confidence, he knows he may need to restrain you during this process. It isn’t pleasant, not with how under-tended you are.

(Jing Yuan knows that such touch can be pleasurable— so pleasurable and lovely. Once this pain has been exorcized, there is something beyond that to covet.)

Jing Yuan examines your right wrist first.

“Do you know how this works, dear?”

“... The massage?”

“Mhm,” he hums. Your scent gland is raised on your inner wrist. An outcrop of slightly bulbous skin, undoubtedly hardened and hot to the touch.

“Not really.” You hesitate. “... I did watch a porno or two when I was younger that had scenes of scent gland massage, but that’s the extent of my experience and education.”

Jing Yuan chuckles and kisses the back of your hand. “This will be quite different.”

“I know. The clips were all so horny. I don’t think that their scent glands actually hurt.”

“More than likely not.” Jing Yuan says gently. “May I tell you what I intend to do?”

“Y-You may.”

Jing Yuan has gamed out his next move at least a dozen times over the last month. By the Arbiter, he (somewhat guiltily) fantasized about rolling out your scent glands even during his heat. Even back then, they hadn’t been in great condition. Despite all of your trepidation and discomfort, he does know that this can feel good in the end. For both of you, if he proceeds thoughtfully.

“I’ll massage out each of your scent glands, one by one,” Jing Yuan explains. “I’ll start with your wrists, then your primaries at your neck, and lastly the scent glands on your inner thighs. I’ll allow you small breaks if you ask or I feel it is necessary, but it will be easier to do this in one go, rather than stopping and starting.”

“I understand.” You nod and gulp audibly. “... Are you okay with doing this?”

“More than.”

As much as Jing Yuan would like to bring you comfort and pleasure, this is necessary pain. Not a chore necessarily, but something unpleasant that serves a greater purpose. He is skilled in completing tasks like this if it means the future will be easier and better for dozing.

You nod and settle back into him. Craning your neck, you kiss his jaw.

...

It is more unpleasant for you than Jing Yuan expected it to be. And more unpleasant for him by proxy.

You are so, so sensitive. He did anticipate a low threshold for direct touch on your most precious parts, including your scent glands. However, you are still more sensitive than he originally surmised. He makes due despite this.

You are doing your best, in his lap. But even with the least sensitive ones on your wrists, you breathe through your teeth.

Jing Yuan has lathered the skin there with a soothing, cooling oil he procured himself from the Alchemy Commission. It is doing something, undoubtedly, but still. You are on edge, bowstring tense, and barely holding yourself still in his lap. He can tell from the forced way you inhale and exhale, and the subtle shake that it hurts.

Your scent has gone sour. So acrid it makes Jing Yuan’s eyes water.

The massage forces more of your scent out and into the room. It’s almost suffocating, as much as Jing Yuan finds comfort in your scent and preens to be surrounded by it— this is overwhelming. Manageable, but overwhelming. Jing Yuan makes a point to nose into the back of your head, whispering encouragement.

“You’re doing well.”

“Thank you—” Your voice sounds cracked and frayed already. “— Hurts.”

“I know.”

He kisses below your ear.

Jing Yuan only stops his attention there when the scent gland feels softer to the touch. Less angry and less stuffed up. There’s been some kind of release, though it seems you haven’t registered it yet. Or can’t feel it over the soreness.

You shake out your wrist with a sniffle.

The next one goes much the same way. Jing Yuan keeps his touch firm and steady. He can’t go too quickly, lest the contact lose effectiveness.

You writhe in his lap with a whine, “Ow.”

He lays his forehead on your nape and squeezes you. “It’s hard, I know.”

Your wrists will be the easiest, he knows. They are generally the least sensitive scent glands on most anyone. Their function is for the most casual scenting, like that between platonic packmates and family members. Perhaps scenting one’s home as well. The scent glands of your neck do the most work, so there’s a chance that they will hurt the most.

Jing Yuan’s current assumption is that the glands on your inner thighs will be the worst by a significant margin.

He finishes up your second wrist and presses a few apologetic kisses to your shoulders. Your skin tastes salty with sweat, far too hot.

“W-Water?” You ask.

Jing Yuan stretches to fetch you a bottle off the side table. The top of the bottle is a sip top, which you suck on with a darkened expression.

“I know that this is difficult.”

“It sucks, Jing Yuan.” You rub your eyes. “N-no breaks, you said, right?”

“No breaks.” He confirms. It’s for the best, but the way you look so crushed and pained is so hard to ignore. Jing Yuan, were he a weaker man, would have stopped then and there to bundle you up and tend to you in a way that is less painful. One that feels less violent.

He is not weak, though.

Your water bottle is set aside and Jing Yuan readjusts you in his lap. You’re slouched lower, so your head is pillowed against his sternum. Your legs are bracketed by his own on the outside, bent at the knee.

Jing Yuan lathers his hands with more oil. The herbal scent mingles with the scents of the room uncomfortably, but he pushes through it. He must. It’s that simple. He steels himself.

The primary glands on your neck nearly jut out from where they rest under your skin. They always have, to some degree. These scent glands are the most vital, the most precious and important. They’re the center of the olfactory system.

Technically, there are two glands there— a primary and a secondary. The primary produces your scent, a unique mix of pheromonal signatures that radiate both your mood and personhood. The secondary one serves a different function. It’s smaller, maybe the size of a peach pit. This gland exists exclusively for claiming bites. It sits just under the skin and rises even closer to the surface during a heat or rut. It becomes engorged, flushed with blood and plasma, perfect to be bitten.

Jing Yuan will admit that he is no expert of biology, but Jingliu did give him a rather forceful lesson on anatomy following his first heat. Baiheng gave a more nuanced, kindly-spoken one after, that was more beneficial for his omegan sensibilities. They gave him enough to get by, more than enough. It helped when Yingxing first wanted to claim him, and both he and Jing Yuan had to explain to secondary-sexless Dan Feng what ‘claiming’ was for someone of their biology.

Pheromones live in all bodily fluids— blood, semen, slick and spit. When one’s bite is laid on another's secondary gland, and teeth puncture the skin and bear into the gland itself, a claim occurs. The mixing of one’s pheromones with the core of another's pheromonal system. It alters the one who is bitten. Their scent changes and their body will respond to their mate on a deeply biological level. An innate sense of knowingness and comfort. It’s permanent.

(Well, somewhat. Xianzhou natives regenerate and persist in such a way that after a few centuries, claiming bites tend to disappear if not refreshed. It happened to his own. Though Jing Yuan swears his scent still hasn’t returned to whatever it was prior to being mated, though the half-moon scar that he once had has long since faded.)

Claiming bites can be exchanged in this way between alphas and omegas, omegas and alphas. Some betas, even, can receive a claiming bite and actually have it take. Alpha-to-alpha and omega-to-omega bites take, but differently.

To be bitten by someone of the same secondary gender is an indication of submission.

For alphas, it tends to be the manifestation of aggression within a pack. The physical mark of vying for control within a unit. For omegas, it’s still submission. Less based in aggression, and more in establishing a pecking order.

(In either case, it’s rare for alpha-to-alpha and omega-to-omega claims to occur. Packs function fine without such brazen displays of submission. It’s archaic for the Xianzhou, something left over from the world of myth that they left behind.)

Still, the concept exists. It’s a whole sub-category of immersia pornography. In the living world, Jing Yuan knows it happens occasionally regardless of fads and favor. Baiheng once told him that Foxian mothers claim-bite their kits and cubs, to make sure their scent is always on their young.

(Jing Yuan has to still himself when he remembers this, in this instant. Claim biting you like a mother would be—)

He is grateful the smell of your pain is strong enough to cover the flare of his own scent and the slick that he feels leak out of his cunt.

“Are you ready?” he asks. He rubs around your scent gland, smearing oil.

“Uh-huh.”

You don’t sound confident. Your throat bobs with a gulp.

He presses down over your right gland with his index and middle finger. Unyielding and resolute—

You jolt. A wretched sound tears from the back of your throat as you arch away from his touch, away from his chest, and squirm away. It’s involuntary, clearly.

Jing Yuan drags you back with the arm that’s still tucked over your belly. He rolls his fingers over the gland in small circles. It— it hurts you. He knew this. But it's worse now that you’re in his lap, gasping for breath as he continues his ministration.

Your legs kick out as he pushes harder.

“Jing Yuan—”

You grab his forearm with both hands. Your eyes water, your scent is— scrambled. Pained and sour and unpleasant on his tongue but it’s hard to parse all of its nuanced notes. It’s more than pure pain and for that reason, Jing Yuan knows that the pain you’re experiencing will be worth it. He hushes you as he pulls away, tending to the next one.

Your head thumps against his chest with a whine, “Wait— I— D-do you have to?”

Your begging tugs at something in him. He still shakes his head and nuzzles your temple.

“I do.”

Sounds tumble out of you as he presses, slicking the skin and digging it. The second gland on your neck is equally as tender. He tries to be gentle while applying the necessary pressure, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference for you.

You push at his hand, shaking your head.

“Hurts!” The word rips from you and you pitch forward, folding over yourself.

Jing Yuan hushes you, murmuring gentle apologies (“I know, I know.” — “I’m sorry, dear. Be still for me—”) that he is unsure if you fully hear.

You barely hold back tears as he circles the gland.

When he pulls away, you are a wreck in his lap. A soppy, shaking little thing that is both attempting to squirm away from him, and seek him out for comfort. You nose into his scent gland while shoving at his arm that still lays in a tight band over your ribs.

He leans into you, kissing over your cheeks where he can.

Intentionally, Jing Yuan left you without your pants. You’re only in a pair of cotton panties that, upon a brief look, don’t have any sort of wet stain on the gusset. Completely dry. This makes sense given your current pain and brewing heat sickness, but it still makes his insides twist.

(The kind of touch he’s giving you now can feel so, so good if given time, care, and future opportunity. He’d like to help you get there.)

Jing Yuan cajoles you as needed, even as you sputter and protest in his lap. To stop now would be dire, and there are just two more spots to go now. The two scent glands on your inner thighs. These ones he can’t see swelling under the skin. There’s enough flesh and pudge there to disguise any visible cues of your rough condition.

Jing Yuan smooths his palms over your inner thighs, avoiding your scent glands on the first pass—

“Wait—” You gasp, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away. “W-wait, no, Jing Yuan—”

“Just a little more to go.” He attempts to placate you with a kiss on your shoulder.

It doesn’t work. You flinch as your breath shirks in a ragged inhale. “No, no, no— not there, no, no more—”

“Dear, it’s alright—”

“P-Please, those ones hurt the w-worst. Don’t—!”

Genuine, unrestrained distress bleeds into your tone as a sob shatters out of you. Jing Yuan aches, hurts down into his chest and heart and tummy because hearing you hurt is uniquely bad from just watching your discomforted facial expression and body language.

You knock your head back into him, skull thumping heavily against his sternum. Flailing for a moment, before you fully pitch forward and away from him.

You nearly manage to crawl away, but Jing Yuan is able to wrangle you by the waist before you can. In a swift motion, you are returned to your previous position against his chest. He twists his legs and ankles with yours and holds them open like that. The position is— straining. For both of you. But it’s secure and forces your tender glands to be fully exposed even as you stutter and shake your head.

“No, no, n-no,” you sob and shake your head. “No, no, please. I-I’ll do anything else, just n-not this. P-please—”

Jing Yuan takes a steady breath and squeezes you. Hard enough and close enough that he hopes you can feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your spine.

“I know it hurts.” He hushes you. “I know you don’t want to, but you have to, okay? You will feel so much better when it’s done.”

“I-I don’t care—!” You choke on your breath. “I-I don’t, I don’t— I don’t care if my heat is w-worse— I can’t—”

“You can.” He assures, resolutely keeping his voice firm. “You can, and you will. I know it is hard, and it hurts. You’ve done so well so far. You’re so close to being done. Can you keep being good for me, just a little while longer?”

You pause then. Ragged breathing is the only sound to disturb your dimly lit bedroom. It takes you a moment to collect yourself as you try so hard to catch your breath enough to speak while rubbing at your wet cheeks.

“I— I can be good— f-for you. J-Just for you, though, okay?”

For him.

“Good. Thank you, dear.” Jing Yuan coos, voice so soft and silken that he hardly recognizes the quality. (Good for him, you’re good for him, always so good and kind and soft and small—)

He places his hands gently over the glands. He feels their heat, then. It makes sense that these would hurt the worst, they’re more than likely the least most under-tended of the lot. Excess oil drips over the roundness of your innermost thigh as you shake. Still in tears, but calmer.

“I’m going to start now,” whispers Jing Yuan. “Okay?”

“O-Okay.”

You tense and brace yourself.

When Jing Yuan pushes down and circles, you bawl. It’s a violent sound. It shakes the gentle, soft atmosphere of your room as you immediately try to pry his hand away from the gland.

He snatches up both of your wrists with his free hand, gripping them together. The pressure he exerts there is almost too much, but he doesn’t falter. He can’t—

“Be good now.”

“S-Stop—!”

The word cracks with a sob.

It’s too much, he knows. You’re pouring sweat down your neck and back. You can’t close your mouth with how frantically you are breathing. Snot pours down from your nose. You beg, ceaselessly, regardless of the little praises and reassuring words that Jing Yuan gives you.

The last, deep pressure applied has you going rigid in his lap. Your teeth snap shut with an audible clack and you all but scream behind them. It’s too much, Jing Yuan knows this, he can feel and smell how this is too much for you, but he locks his jaw and keeps himself steady. He must.

By the time he pulls away from the gland on your right thigh, you’re all but collapsed. In on yourself, burning, tunneling to your core as you wheeze.

You shake. Like one of the delicate ginkgo leaves that litter the stone paths of his gardens. Like the wavering surface tension on the water of the stream that runs so close to your home. Like a fragile, little thing in his lap that has been so close to breaking for so long, and is too close to wholly shattering.

(Jing Yuan knows your heat will bring this for you. It’s a quiet knowledge. One he operates with at the core of his planning and strategizing, but doesn’t talk about with you openly. Not unless you asked. He is so deeply aware of how close you are to breaking and how much this scares you. He has already resolved to ease that burden however he can.)

“I’m sorry.” Jing Yuan can’t help apologizing. His own eyes— feel wet. His chest aches and he wants to squirrel you away into the depths of your nest and to his chest where he can quell your pain and lick your wounds for you. He wants to lick at you until you’re whole and well again.

“N-No.” You protest again. Weakly, you nudge the crown of your head into his chin. “You d-don’t gotta be. You said you h-have to, right?”

“I do.”

You nod, understanding. Speaking must be hard for you like this.

Jing Yuan gathers his resolve and bundles you, somehow, closer. You don’t fight him much anymore, only twitch and recoil as he wets the skin over your last scent gland with oil. It nearly shimmers in the low light.

You collapse against his chest, curling your fingers into his robe.

He kisses your forehead. “I’ll be as quick as I can be.”

You take a wobbling inhale and rub around your eyes, but nod all the same

(It’ll be over soon, then Jing Yuan can— do something. Something else that isn’t causing you such a great amount of pain—)

For your final scent gland, he begins by digging in with his knuckle, hard, into the center of the mass. You muffle a scream into his chest, hands beating against his sternum. It hurts him, he’ll probably be bruised, but he doesn’t truly care. He’s not even sure that you’re aware you’re striking him.

You mumble a stream of “make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—”s as he continues his touch, pressing more firmly and deeper into you. Your scent is— still muddled. Changing by the minute and it coats his throat like condensation. Suffocating. But he continues because he must and you’re so close.

Jing Yuan fully grabs your thigh, leveling his hand so that the heel of his palm is over your scent gland. With the strength of his arm behind his touch, he bears down and into you.

The sound that comes out of your mouth the next moment is inhuman. Wounded and pained and sharp, but there’s a gasp of breaking relief at the end. It’s a barely there wisp, but Jing Yuan hears it. You scramble, shaking so hard that he’s afraid you’ll truly break like a piece of porcelain.

He slows down his touch, easing off little by little until he’s rubbing over the scent gland with just enough pressure to be firm without bruising. You— you’re a mess. It’s endearing to see you in such a state as the pain of the massage fades away. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet, around your mouth and nose is shiny with spit and snot. Your legs still shake where they cross over his lap. You sniffle and rub at your face.

Jing Yuan takes his palm, cupping your cheek to hold you again his chest, over his heart and breast.

You relax.

So does Jing Yuan, bit by bit as the adrenaline wears off. You need a moment, he knows, to collect yourself, and come back into yourself. He’s happy to let you ground yourself on him. Your breathing becomes more even and your eyes regain some clarity.

You peer up at him.

“... Water?”

Jing Yuan fetches you the nearby bottle wordlessly. You down half of it in a single swallow, and nearly gulp down the rest of it before Jing Yuan gently reminds you to slow down. You comply simply, so soft and pliant like this.

You sniffle. “That was a-a lot.

“I know. You did very well.” Jing Yuan tells you with a squeeze. “I know it was not easy.”

“... It wasn’t.” You sound wilted as you speak. “W-Will you have to do that... again?”

“I will.” He’s honest with you. “But now that you’ve had them... expressed in such a way, it shouldn’t be painful going forward. Just sensitive.”

Gingerly, he thumbs over one of the scent glands on the side of your neck. You stiffen, gasp, and then half-moan with the contact. Your legs go rigid and stiff, and a moment later you’re blushing so heavily, that Jing Yuan is worried you’ll go light-headed.

You buried your face in his chest once more.

“How did that feel?” He asks.

“Sensitive, like you said.” You give a muffled reply. “But not bad. Kinda’ good.”

“Good.”

Jing Yuan sighs, letting out a tension that he didn’t even know he had been carrying. He squeezes you closer, relieved, and wrung out himself. A purr hums out of him, one which he doesn’t quiet or hide.

You chirp to it, nuzzling into the line of his throat. Not fully content, but much closer than you had been before.

— 💦. ݁₊⋆❀˖°🎀°˖❀⋆ ݁₊.💦 —

In the weeks after the pavilion party, you only cross Jing Yuan’s mind a small number of times.

Though your encounter had been quite endearing, and you quite cute— you certainly aren’t the first person to embarrass themselves in front of him. As... comforting as your scent had been as it clung to him in the hours after, it is, ultimately, a fleeting thing.

Jing Yuan accepts this and moves on. It’s better that way. He meets many people, constantly, all the time, and rarely do they linger with him on a personal level. The connections he keeps are few, and he prefers it this way.

(Forgive him for guarding his heart.)

The next time he encounters you, it’s during business hours.

He has a meeting with Yukong, a standard check-in, and for once he decides to go to the Sky-Faring Commission in person, rather than one of his usual hologram meetings (if it’s to escape the paperwork grind for just a little longer, why not?)

It’s midday, and the Commission is bustling with activity as Yukong leads him to the center console. Things are routine, there are no disasters, and no peculiar deviations in data and activity. All anomalies and oddities are accounted for and are being monitored as needed. It’s a relief, even if Jing Yuan expects it.

What he doesn’t expect is to see you flitting from desk to desk around the Commission.

Across the wide control room, you have a tablet tucked into the crook of your arm. Your lips are pursed as you tap around it, making conversation with a coworker. You smile when you speak. It’s charming to watch. It’s mundane and he didn’t expect it. He didn’t expect to see you and be intensely reminded that you are quite the cute thing.

You jump when a different coworker, a foxian, slaps her hands on your shoulders. You turn around, clearly indignant. Though Jing Yuan is too far away to hear you clearly, he can imagine the tone. His chest feels warm as he watches.

“General?” Yukong asks him, tugging his attention back. “Would you be amicable to take a tour of the upgraded sections of the delve?”

“I’d be delighted,” he says smoothly. Yukong excuses herself to put together a few things, and Jing Yuan makes himself comfortable with his hands behind his back, surveying the Palace of Astrum—

His gaze is brought back to you. Your foxian coworker chatters with you, having gathered your hands in her own, rocking the two of you in an odd, but friendly dance. The foxian catches his attention. She has downturned ears, the kind that some from the Yaoqing have, where they blend into their hair. This foxian has snowy, loose curls that ring around her face and jaw, draping into a long style down her back.

This must’ve been who you mistook him for during the party. Jing Yuan laughs to himself with a shake of his head.

(It is an oddly poignant reminder that, for all the courtesy and kindness you showed him, you meant that closeness for someone else. Friend or otherwise. There’s a melancholy with this understanding, this truth.)

The foxian’s tale swishes and her head jerks toward him.

You turn around, gaze sweeping the room, and then clearly, it lands on him.

And oh. It’s sweet. He can see the embarrassment in your cheeks as the foxian attempts not to split her side from holding in laughter.

Despite your surprise, you wave at him. Good-natured albeit nervous.

It warms something in him.

He nods to you and waves back. Your smile sweetens like sun-warmed honey.

...

Jing Yuan notices you plenty after that. You’ve been in his orbit for quite a while, haven’t you? Nearby, flitting around the Sky-Faring Commission under Yukong’s watchful eye. You’re often by the foxian’s side while she conducts her most important business. A helpful, sweet-smelling shadow.

(She confides to Jing Yuan that you’re something of a pup to her. Your family isn’t on the Luofu. They aren’t from the Luofu. You came here, all by yourself, a decade or so ago. She took you under her wing and when she notices Jing Yuan’s subtle interest, she gives him a firm, but well-meaning talking to about his intentions.)

It’s odd, more than worrisome when he first hears this. It’s unusual for an unmated omega to move without a pack or family unit. It’s not an unheard-of occurrence, but it’s usually not advisable. It’s also odd that you never wear scent patches.

You’re a curious thing.

Jing Yuan develops a quiet, but certainly present fascination with you. He tries to not seem too obvious. Only Yukong really notes his interest in you, and that’s due to how protective she is of you. His interest in you does lead him to visit the Sky-Faring Commission in person more often if only to catch a glimpse. Observe.

(Decide if indulging his inkling feelings toward you is worth any of the potential disasters that could come with it. )

It’s a low-burning thing.

He hardly speaks to you when he visits the Sky-Faring Commission anyway.

This isn’t entirely on him; you tend to scamper off after exchanging just a line or two of pleasantries. Your voice trembles and you look up at him with a reasonable amount of trepidation and anxiety when you do speak with him.

It is all surface level.

(At least, at first, it is. Jing Yuan doesn’t push further, and neither do you. You don’t even notice that he is probing you at all if he is to guess.)

Something shifts, one early morning.

It’s long before most of the Sky-Faring Commission is in for the day. Jing Yuan prefers meetings during this time if he is to attend them in person rather than through a hologram. There tends to be less fuss about the Divine Foresight's presence in the Commission so casually this way.

Yukong is already there when he arrives. As are you. You’re the only two in the Palace of Astrum, he assesses.

The two of you are tucked away in a corner, away from what Jing Yuan has identified as your own desk. Instead, you are seated on a plush bench, while Yukong kneels in front of you. Some of the hologram saplings that sprout from the metal floor obscure his view as he slowly circles closer.

The massive looms outside the Palace hum. It’s the only sound other than muffled sniffling— your muffled sniffling.

You sob, Jing Yuan thinks, as you cover your face with both hands.

“I-I’m sorry—” You say, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“It’s alright,” replies Yukong, voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s a difficult time.”

“I should— I s-should be better than this, Madame Y-Yukong.”

She berates you for speaking lowly of yourself in her next breath, but her voice is gentle. Kind. The exact words are lost on Jing Yuan.

As you fully come into view, his breath catches.

You’re crying.

Big, round tears drip from your bloodshot eyes. They wet your jaw, darkening a spot on your outer garment where it lays over your thigh. You’re weeping, really, shaking in your shoulders as Yukong rests her hands on your knees, rubbing circles there.

Jing Yuan knows he’s intruding. He can’t stop himself from stealing a glimpse of the moment.

He feels... almost dirty about it. He’s captivated by your tears, your countenance, the way you grip the clothes over your chest and fight through a sob to tell the Helm Master “how foolish and daft and stupid you are”. It’s doing something to him.

(An awakening really.)

Affectionately, you’re a bit pathetic, and he wants— he wants you. Lucidly and fully.

Before the thought can consume him whole, he clears his throat.

The two of you jump. Yukong hastily rises and stands between you and himself. He can see your shadow, and how you have ducked to hide your face.

“General,” Yukong nods. “I apologize. I didn’t realize you had arrived.”

“I’m a bit early.” He shrugs, good-naturedly. “Is everything alright? It appears I’ve come at a bad time.”

Your scent clings to him again, this time sad and low, like the smell of embers as they hiss and lose their glow in late-evening mist.

Yukong speaks. “It’s alright, General.”

“I apologize—” You push yourself up and sway, daring to meet his eyes from around Yukong. You looked like a kicked puppy. And Jing Yuan has latent, though present instinct—

(He wants to take you away, somewhere safe—)

“No need,” he replies easily. “May I suggest rescheduling our meeting, Madame Yukong? My morning can be rearranged accordingly. I’m happy to procure a snack if you need some time.”

“I—”

Yukong cuts you off. “That would be much appreciated, General. Thank you. I should walk this one home, and then I’ll be available from then on, if that’s sufficient.”

“More than.” He looks at you when he speaks. “Whatever you need to do.”

You look like you intend to fight Yukong on this. But, Yukong deftly hooks her arm with yours and leads you from the Palace of Astrum with a slow, measured stride. She waves goodbye and urges you to too. You look back at him, still tear-stricken, ashamed, and crumbled, and wave.

“Goodbye, General. T-Thank you.”

He’s left alone then, with his thoughts and wisps of your unhappy scent swirling in the air.

Jing Yuan— well. He should get breakfast. A treat always does him well. First, though, he leans his forehead against a nearby pillar and runs a hand down his face.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

What are you doing to him? How are you doing this to him? He feels like a pervert. He— can’t decide if he wants you in his nest or his bosom. Both? It’s— a lot to sort through all at once. Something to ponder, truthfully, something to take his time with. He’s already been taking his time, and this is just another variable, another angle to account for.

He steadies himself (as he is so good at doing.)

This encounter solidifies the thing he has known but has had... trouble acknowledging.

He is enamored with you, at least a little. Perhaps a lot. At least, potentially a lot, in a way that makes him feel young and perverted and reminds him that he needs to continue to take his time. Step evenly toward you with small paces. He still can’t place if you like him, to be truthful. It’s another thing to suss out.

He gives himself time.

Perhaps he can obtain your phone number.

— 💦. ݁₊⋆❀˖°🎀°˖❀⋆ ݁₊.💦 —

“Earlier,” says Jing Yuan, “you said you had questions for me?”

“Oh yeah. I did.”

You start to perk up from your cradle in his arms.

Following the scent gland massage, you had promptly fallen asleep on top of him, limbs tangled with his own. Jing Yuan can’t say that he minds, but the weight of you has him dozing off as well.

It’s good. And given that your pre-heat will surely be metastasizing into a full heat at any time, more than welcome. Any amount of rest he can secure for the two of you makes him feel more at ease. Your body clearly needs more time to settle, your scent still is muddled but slowly clearing up.

You sit up over his hips and brace yourself on his chest. Blinking, slow, like a sun-warmed cat showing an owner its trust and affection. Jing Yuan cups your cheek and you lean into it with an omegan chirp from the middle of your throat. You really aren’t all that different from a content cat.

“What did you want to ask?”

“It’s just one question, really… It might be kind of invasive.” You hide your face in his big palm. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d still like to hear it still if you’ll tell me.”

You peek at him under your lashes and smother your lips against his hand. You collapse onto his chest and bury your face in his scent gland. It’s easy then, to lightly wrestle you to the side of him and get his arms around your waist. This position feels safest, the most secure.

You must feel the same as you nuzzle closer. Always so sweet with him, even if you are frightened.

“I... I wanted to ask about your old mate... mates,” you say so softly. “You don’t have a claim bite, but I read a few things that make it seem like you were mated at some point. You know that I haven’t really been with anyone other than you. And I guess I’m curious about what you’ve experienced... and what you’ve gone through.”

He hums.

Jing Yuan knows there have been rumors. Ancient, archival tabloid articles from the days of the High Cloud Quintet, speculating on the relationship status of “The High Elder of the Vidyadhara, Imbibitor Lunae”, “The Short-Life Furnace Master of the Luofu”, and “The Xianzhou’s most promising young Lieutenant strategist”.

They weren't so careful, hiding their affections back then. Yingxing didn’t care about his personal reputation, despite his known arrogance. Dan Feng welcomed contention from the preceptors and the public. And Jing Yuan had yet to learn all of restraint’s gentle dances. He knew some steps, but not enough to keep all of the throuple’s more... risque trysts from showing up in the next day’s forums and newsstands for an incredulous and gawking public, try as he might.

Despite all of the evidence, none of them ever addressed their mating in any official capacity. Privacy and all. Jing Yuan has parried the rumors now for years, even with the perception that he is an alpha. Given the... mostly detached way that he (publically) handled the exile of both of his once-mates, the whispers have fallen away in current times. More often, there will be a blurry photograph of him in a night market near an innocuous shadow with wild claims about him taking some mysterious partner.

It doesn’t bother him. It never has, really, but now he is laying in your nest and you ask him so gently, kindly, with a wrinkle between your brows, the conclusions you’ve drawn do give him a bit of anxiety.

“That’s a fair question to ask,” begins Jing Yuan. “I understand your curiosity.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” You nearly interrupt him. “Only what you’re comfortable with. It’s... not an easy topic, I imagine.”

“It’s not.”

You nose into his jaw, gooey. “Take your time.”

He does. It takes a moment for him to collect him and decide what to give you in this moment, if anything. He wants to, but his heart is still delicate in these deep, seldom-touched places.

“You are correct in that I was once mated.” He tells you, burying a hand in your hair. “Neither of them have any claim on me, and they haven’t for some time. My mating bite faded centuries ago.”

“‘They’?”

“Two,” he clarifies. “One alpha and one vidyadhara. I’ve rarely coupled after we parted, and when I have, it hasn’t been anything lasting.”

Nothing more than highly confidential hookups and heavy-petting sessions to scratch an itch that Jing Yuan struggles to reach himself. He rarely feels the need.

“... And they’re... gone?”

“Something like that.”

‘Gone’ is perhaps the most appropriate word for what happened to Yingxing and Dan Feng. Not broken up, not dead, just gone. Their Identities were replaced.

“... I’m sorry.” You squeeze him. “That’s so hard.”

“It’s alright.”

(It isn’t, not fully, but Jing Yuan made peace with the wounds the two of them left a long time ago. It does not rot anymore. Only aches on occasion.)

“It’s still hard.” You nose into his scent glands. “I can’t imagine experiencing the loss of a mate.”

“It’s not something I’d wish on anyone,” he replies honestly.

“They were your firsts?”

“First everything.”

“Oh.”

You nuzzle closer to him, your scent blooming and mingling with his own.

“No need to be sad on my account.” He squeezes your nape. “It happened a long time ago.”

“‘Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt anymore,” you remind him. You adjust to perch in his lap, cupping his cheeks. Your eyes are sad, still bloodshot from your tears earlier. “Thank you for trusting me to be close to you. It means a lot. And thank you for being close to me.”

His heart aches in the best way.

“Of course.”

Then, he kisses you. How could he not?

🎀💦 CONTINUED IN PART 2!! →

#lore writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #WE DID!!! IT!!!!!#I'M getting up part 2 as we speak and i'll update links accordingly <3 #enjoy so so much

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